


A Year in the Life

by Bleepbloop95



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: AYITL, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Drama, F/M, Gen, Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life, Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life Fix-It, Humor, Multi, Romance, Single Rory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleepbloop95/pseuds/Bleepbloop95
Summary: 10 years after Rory's graduation from Yale, her whirlwind return to Stars Hollow starts a chain reaction of events that change the lives of the Gilmore Girls forever. TL; DR: Rewrite of the revival. On hold.





	1. Chapter 1

Rory was stunned. She sighed and dropped the papers on her desk. How did she manage to spend $95,000 in just 9 years? She looked around her 600 sq ft closet that barely counted as a studio. What the hell had she been paying for?

"Fuck…" she whispered.

When her grandparents had revealed that they wanted to give her $300,000 as a graduation gift, Rory was appalled. She had been 22, single, and was going to make decent money following Barack Obama's campaign trail. She wasn't some jobless trust fund kid. But they begged. They begged her to take something, anything! Even her own mother had told her she'd be an idiot to turn it down so, Rory caved. She accepted $100,000 nothing more.

It was a modest nest egg. She'd invest it, or buy some property to make a little money while she worked at her future job at an amazing newspaper. But then the election ended. And it had been a couple of years before she found her feet as a professional journalist but, $95,000? Last week, Rory had proudly packed up her desk and stomped home from her last day at The Wallstreet Journal. 5 years of busting her ass and she barely had anything to show for it. Not a raise, or a slightly roomier cubicle. Those jackwads couldn't even spring for a space heater in their -30° building. Rory knew that her writing could get her a better job in a heartbeat. And even if that took a while, she still had the money her grandparents left her, right?

Right.

Rory and the bank confirmed that she had been wrong, so very, very wrong. The total of her checking and savings account was minuscule $2,438.16. With the $5,000 left from her grandparents, Rory could afford to feed herself and house herself, for about 5 more minutes. Rory flinched as a shadow slinked across her floor. Another mouse? The shadow meowed and Rory rolled her eyes.

"Zsa-Zsa, c'mere sweetie."

The fluffiest white cat known to man trotted over and jumped in her lap. Zsa-Zsa purred as Rory gave her a scratch on the chin. Had she known a few weeks ago that she would be this broke, she probably wouldn't have spent $1,200 on a purebred cat.

"How pathetic would it be to break my lease, run home to my mommy and ask my grandparents for money?"

Zsa-Zsa blinked in response.

Rory nodded. "You're right. I'll stick to grandpa."

Zsa-Zsa hissed and dug her claws into Rory's thighs as her phone vibrated across her desk.

"Ow, ow, ow! Okay, you can go!" Rory's shooed the cat off her lap and picked up her phone.

"Mom! I was just about to call you. What's the haps?"

The line was quiet with the exception of heavy breathing and sniffling.

"Mom, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"Something happened."

"To who? Is Luke okay? Is it James? Mom–"

"Rory, it's your grandpa."

––––––

$800 poorer, Rory and Zsa-Zsa touched down in Tweed New Haven airport a few hours later. Seeing her family's faces after sitting in a pressurized tin can for 2 hours was one hell of a relief. James, with the energy only 8-year-old boys could exert, dropped Lorelai's hand and sprinted up to her.

"Woah, Woah, hold on their cowboy. I got precious cargo here!" Rory said, lifting Zsa-Zsa's kennel above his head.

"Did you bring a puppy?" he asked, bouncing up and down.

"No, even better! Meet Zsa-Zsa!" She tilted the grate of the kennel down at him.

James rolled his eyes. "A cat? Lame."

"James, stop being a brat and help your sister with her bags. Thanks."

Rory passed the kennel off to James and let Luke wrap her in a warm hug.

"I missed you, Luke."

"Same here, kid."

Rory let go of Luke and turned to her mom. Her stomach clenched. She guessed she hadn't noticed it before but, her mom was old. Before she knew it she'd be flying back to Stars Hollow for her mom's–

The idea of finishing that train of thought had Rory squeezing Lorelai even harder.

Lorelai planted a kiss on her forehead. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course. How's grandpa doing? And grandma?"

Luke sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Me and James are gonna take the bags back to the truck."

Rory watched them pick up the bags and hurry outside. "Is it bad?" she asked.

Lorelai frowned and rubbed her face. "Let's talk about it at home, kay?"

––––

Rory didn't know who was in the hospital bed in front of her, but she knew one thing for sure. It wasn't Richard Gilmore. At least, it shouldn't have been. The man in the bed was frail and withered. His face was weathered and gray face bones poked out sharply from under his skin. If Rory couldn't hear the steady "beep" from the heart monitoring machine, she was sure that she was looking at a corpse. It shouldn't be her grandpa. But it was.

"How did this happen? " Rory asked as tears began to roll down her face.

Lorelai wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Heart attack."

"But, he's had heart attacks before, he never looked like this."

"He was alone this time, Rory."

Rory covered her mouth in horror. She couldn't get the picture of Richard gasping for breath all alone on his office floor out of her head. She wiped the tears off her face and sniffled.

"But he's getting better right? He'll only have to stay in the hospital for a little longer?" she asked.

"Rory...I. I asked you to fly in so you could say goodbye." Lorelai said.

Rory crossed her arms and bit her lip. It wasn't fair. She didn't even get to know him for 20 years. She was such an idiot. She was so busy screwing up in New York to visit the man who even made it possible to be there. She would barely pick up the phone he called! God, she was such an idiot.

Rory turned around and realized that Lorelai had left her, and what was left of her grandfather alone. She wiped her face again and dropped into the hard plastic chair next to Richard's bed. She gently grabbed his hand. Rory didn't want to say goodbye. She snorted back her tears.

"Gilmore's don't snort, Rory."

"Grandpa!"

Richard smiled at her from under the oxygen mask strapped to his face. He squeezed her hand. "You look like that Kardashian girl in one of those things James keeps showing me."

"A meme?"

"Yes, that. I think I want to see some more of those. They are incredibly funny."

"I can't believe you know who the Kardashians are. James really corrupted you." Rory whispered.

They smiled silently at each other. Richard let out a breath that shook his whole body. "It's good to see you, Rory."

"It's good to see you too, grandpa. Sorry I haven't been around."

"I understand." Richard sucked in a breath of air. "Off in New York City, putting the Gilmore name on the map." Another gulp of air. "There's no shame in being too busy to visit boring ol' grandpa."

Rory was going to start crying again. She had been too busy running the Gilmore name into the ground to think about her family at all. After everything Richard had done for her, she had nothing to show for it.

"Have I ever told you how proud I am of you and your mother? My Lorelais." Richard asked.

"Not really."

Richard looked confused for a moment. He then sighed deeply and smiled. "Well, I am. You've both turned about to be amazing, successful people. There are no better women who could carry on the Gilmore name."

Rory swallowed her tears and pressed her head onto Richard's chest. She wanted to smell the musk of his pipe smoke and tang of his cologne, but all she found was the sour tang of lemony hospital disinfectant. A soft, heavy hand rested on the top of her skull. "Your hair is getting long again." Richard murmured.

Rory sat up and wiped under her nose. "Yeah, been busy. Haven't had time to get a trim."

"It looks nice."

Richard smiled and closed his eyes. "Remind me to tell my nurse to get me a softer bed. Tell her I'll buy the whole damn hospital if I have to."

Rory smiled through her tears. "Will do."

She looked down at her hands and before she knew it, Richard was asleep, barrel chest rising and falling sluggishly. Rory closed the hospital door behind her and found her Lorelai and Luke sitting outside. Luke was glassy-eyed with grief and Lorelai clutched his arm like a lifeline.

"Hey," Rory said.

Lorelai sniffed and smiled. "Hey. How was he?"

"Good, good. We had a nice talk. Yeah. It was good." In an effort not to cry again–she was pretty sure her body was out of moisture anyways– she asked, "Where's James?"

"Mom was feeling a little sick so he volunteered to keep her company."

"Cool."

Rory looked around. The hospital's bright lights hurt her eyes and she swore she could hear every heart rate machine flatline all around the hospital. "Can we go home?"

"Yeah."


	2. Chapter 2

Had it been any other funeral, Rory would have been impressed. The funeral was beautiful. The flowers were tasteful and fragrant. Richard's casket gleamed in the afternoon sunshine. The graveyard was immaculate and manicured, and the Gilmores were the picture perfect mourning family in their black outfits. If Better Homes and Gardens did a spotlight on funerals, Richard Gilmore's would have made the cover. But Rory failed to see the beauty of it all. It all reminded Rory that during Richard's last moments, she looked into his eyes and lied. Her grandfather died believing the sacrifices he made, the money he'd spent, the stress that crippled his heart, had been worth it. During the viewing, Rory couldn't muster the courage to look down.

With red eyes, and slumped shoulders, the Gilmores made their way to Emily's home for the wake. The grand mansion was filled to the brim with bodies draped in black, eating, drinking, and celebrating Richard's memory. Richard's death wasn't the only thing on Rory's mind. Her incredible lack of funds took up a decent amount of real estate. Having spent 2 weeks in Stars Hollow, rent had been due. Like an idiot, Rory had set her rent to be automatically withdrawn after incurring one too many late fees. Now her checking account had a beautiful total of $8.23. Glued to one of her grandparent's leather couches, Rory wondered if any her eggs were still fresh enough to sell to science. She looked up from the bank app on her phone when a voice above her said,

"Whiskey sour?"

"What?" she asked as James stood behind Richard's trusty drink cart.

James shook a tumbler of orange liquid in her face. "Whiskey sour? I just learned how to make it. Mr. Samson said it was pretty damn good."

"What are you doing?" Rory asked.

"I'm helping grandma. She kept saying even I could make better drinks than her maids so I am," he replied with a shrug.

Rory was very sure that an 8-year-old boy serving drinks at a funeral broke so many laws. But she did need a drink.

"Gimme a gin and tonic."

"Cool!"

Luke walked over and furrowed his brows at the scene in front of him. "James, what are you doing?"

"I'm making Rory a drink. Do you want one dad? 'Cause Mrs. Miller says I make a bitchin' cosmopolitan."

Luke closed his eyes and let out a deep breath before pinching the skin between his forehead. "James, go find your grandma before you become a ward of the state. And leave the cart."

James rolled his eyes and dropped a few sprigs of mint in Rory's drink. "Here you go." he wiped his hands on his pants and ran off.

Luke snatched the glass out of Rory's hand. "No drinks for you, you don't deserve it, You're supposed to be the responsible one, remember?" Luke said.

He sniffed the glass before taking a swig himself.

"You're really putting a wrench in my whole 'young woman drowning her sorrows in booze' thing here," Rory replied.

Luke sat down next to her and put a warm hand on her shoulder.

"How you doin' kid?"

"Oh, you know, terrible. I'm so mad. I should be sad because the only grandfather I ever had just died, but I'm too mad at myself! Grandpa would always call me and want to spend time with me, but I kept blowing him off. How could I even think about doing that? I knew this was coming, he had 2 heart attacks for God's sake–"

"Hey, hey, hey. Rory, c'mon. Try that drowning your sorrows in booze thing." Luke said, passing her the glass. "Look, you're never going to feel like you did enough before something like this happens. There's never going to be enough time. Rory, you have to know he was so proud of you. Every dinner we had he could never go ten minutes without talking about a new article you wrote or how your building in Yale was helping inspire the next generation of minds. I don't want you to start thinking that you never coming around killed him or anything like that. He hung on long enough to see you. He loved you, Rory, don't forget that."

Rory looked up at him through her tears and tried to sip her drink. "Great, now it's salty."

Luke chuckled and patted her back. He looked around the room. "Where's your mom?"

"She had a headache so she's taking a nap upstairs," Rory said, wiping the tears off her face. "That was like an hour ago. You should bring her some food, she's probably hungry."

"When is she not hungry?"

Rory gasped. "Are you calling mom fat? I'm so telling her."

"We were having a moment, right? Don't ruin it." Luke replied. "I'll go check on your mom." Luke patted her shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

Rory sighed and laid back on the couch. She would be fine. Eventually.

The wake wound down and soon guests were asking the maids for their coats. Emily stood at the door, accepting condolences, tearful hugs, and, handshakes. With the last well-wisher gone, Emily let the maids shut the heavy wooden door. She looked around at her empty house, grabbed a glass and filled it with whatever was inside the nearest bottle of liquor before walking outside to the patio. Richard had been mad about it when they had first bought the house. During their marriage, interior design had been her responsibility but Richard had spent months picking out every single stone, flower, and piece of furniture. When a new line of patio furniture was on the market, Richard had always been the first to snap it up. Besides Lorelai, it had, for all purposes, been his baby. She touched the wood of the patio chair that Richard had bought before...before everything. She didn't know if she had the strength to get rid of it. Emily perched herself stiffly in the chair. She didn't know if she had the strength to do anything anymore.

Emily looked at her wedding ring sitting flush against her crepey, liver-spotted skin. She had looked forward to growing old with Richard. Now all she could look forward to was growing even older, alone. She looked up when the patio door slammed against the wall. James looked startled himself.

"Oh! Sorry!" he closed the door behind him. "I didn't mean to open it so hard."

Emily smiled. "That's okay. Come, sit with grandma." She patted the open seat next to her.

James smiled, showing off the gap where his front teeth used to be. "Can I sit on your lap, grandma?"

"Of course. What's the occasion?" Emily teased. "The last time I tried to get you to sit in my lap, you said you were a big boy and big boys don't do that."

James shrugged and folded his long little self into her lap. Emily chuckled and gave him a squeeze. He buried his head into her neck without a word. Emily smiled. It would be a lie to say that she hadn't been afraid of James and Rory loving her less now that Richard was gone. Richard had been what she supposed her grandkids considered fun. Emily was always somewhere in the background, straightening ties or yelling out reminders to wear more sunscreen. Emily swayed back and forth remembering how James felt in her arms as a baby all those years ago. She had missed holding him like this but, babies grew up. She knew the pain well. Emily and James sat in a comfortable silence. Soon, James began to go limp with sleep.

"Grandma," he asked. "Are you okay?"

Emily swallowed. "Yes. Of course I am." she paused for a moment. "Are you okay?"

James tightened his arms around her. "No."

––––––

An hour and a half later, Emily was still there. Luke walked outside and sat next to them. James was completely knocked out, while Emily was more awake than she had ever been.

"Hey," Luke whispered, "Do you mind if we spend the night? Lorelai's not feeling too great."

"Of course, Luke. You know how empty this house can be. I love how much life you three bring here."

"If you like the noise, why don't you hire a few more maids?"

"Ugh! Please!" Emily said with a roll of her eyes. "With my luck, I'll hire another idiot. These people can barely make a bed."

"Or a cocktail?" Luke replied.

"Very so. James made delicious cocktails until you stole him away from me."

Emily looked down and brushed a lock of hair off James' forehead. "He's just like you, you know."

"No kiddin'?"

"He's definitely yours, I mean, look at that nose!"

"Really hitting me where it hurts, Emily."

"I'm just teasing, you know that. But honestly. He really is just like you. He's been following me around like a little duckling all night. Wanting to make sure I was eating, or if I was tired. It reminded me of the time after my hip surgery. You were so lovely Luke."

Luke blushed and scratched his chin. "I was just being a good son-in-law, forget about it."

"Oh yes, let's forget about the time my son-in-law closed his beloved diner down for two weeks and told my maids to go on vacation so he could take of care of both a 3-year-old and drugged up old woman at once. Sure, I won't say another word."

"Alright, alright enough about me. How are you holding up?"

Emily smiled. "I'm fine. Just fine."

"Your legs are probably dead under there, lemme grab him." Luke gently lifted James from Emily's arms before tossing him over his shoulder.

"Luke, my grandson is not a sack of potatoes. Hold him properly!"

Luke shrugged with a smile "I've held him this way his whole life. He's good."

Emily shook her head with a smile "You can put him in–"

"Lorelai's old room and the two of us will take the guest room. Got it."

"Which room did Rory want?"

"She's not here, she had to fly back."

Emily smiled slipped for only a moment. "That's fine. I know how busy she is. It was nice that she came."


	3. Chapter 3

Rory taped the last of her moving boxes shut with a sigh. When she started to pack it became very clear where a good deal of her money had gone. Labels. Designer labels. Nothing Rory owned came from anywhere that didn't have attendants in the fitting rooms. And what the hell for? Rory couldn't remember wearing some of these things more than once or twice. The thought of googling the prices gave her heart palpitations. It took a month and $800 to break her lease after coming back from Stars Hallow. Damn moving companies jacking their prices up for the Fall semesters. Damn college students. Somewhere in the box kingdom that was her apartment, Rory heard her phone ring. "Crap," Rory said as she rummaged around. She really hoped she didn't pack her phone. Rory crawled around on the floor and listened to see if the sound got clearer or more muffled. Several minutes later, she found her phone where she left it. On her bed.

"Hello?"

"Rory!" Emily's chipper voice greeted, "How are you?"

Rory held back a groan.

"Fine. Little exhausted, you know, heavy boxes."

"Oh Rory, it's going to be so nice to have you back home. I missed our Friday night dinners! James is so excited to have you back."

"I mean, I still have to tie up a few loose ends and stuff. Drop off a few resumes."

"Don't you even give that another thought. Taking a break is just what you need. Those fools at the Wall Street Journal have no idea what kind of talent they threw out the door..."

Rory blew a strand of hair off of her forehead. Emily didn't have any eyes or ears in the Wall Street Journal so it was easy to throw the lie of her "firing". It was technically the truth.

"...The ladies at the DAR are going to be ecstatic when I tell them you're back. So far, not one young lady could throw an event like you Rory. Maybe I could convince Renee to let you help out with annual Halloween spectacular. Would you like that?"

No, she would not like that. In fact, Rory would like cutting her foot off with a plastic spoon more than that.

"Hey grandma, sorry to cut you off, but the movers are here."

"Well, alright. I'll let you go. Call me back."

"Will do. Bye!"

With a sigh, Rory crawled up on her bed and tossed her phone away. She sat up as the sound of boxes tumbling down shook the bed.

"Oh no," she said as she looked at the mess. Perhaps buying moving boxes from the dollar store wasn't the best idea. She at least had time to repack everything before the movers came by.

Loud knocks echoed through the apartment.

"This is Acme Moving! Hello?"

–––––

One thing Rory could always admit about Taylor Doose was that the man knew how to throw an event. When Fall rolled around he made sure that Stars Hollow was the place to be. Back when Rory first started working, it killed her to see pictures that April posted of the fun everyone was having in Stars Hollow. Stuck in her cubicle, re-re-re editing her work, she imagined how much easier life would be if she moved back.

Being back in Stars Hollow was a whole different thing. Rory spent the last weeks of September trying to track down the thirty boxes she had shipped back to Connecticut along with her furniture. Ikea or not, she could not afford to toss them. Finding somewhere to hold all her stuff was an experience in itself as well. Lorelai's place was out of the question. Her old bedroom was covered in Fortnite merch and slime, courtesy of James. The garage housed Luke's boat and her mother, the packrat, had managed to stuff Rory's entire childhood in the attic.

Luckily, Lane didn't mind coming to the rescue.

In the basement of what used to be Kim's Antiques, the boxes or Rory's old life found a home.

"How's your mom doing?" Rory asked, wiping a smidge of dust from her forehead.

Lane rubbed her pregnant belly with a sigh. "Well, last year she decided that Busan wasn't holy enough for her and moved to Gangnam near some of my cousins."

"Wait, isn't that the plastic surgery and club city or something?"

"Yep! Every morning, she preaches to hungover 20 year olds with boobs bigger than her head. She's having a blast."

Rory shoved another box behind a pile of old records, vintage band t-shirts, and cymbals.

"Sorry for taking up all the space for the store."

Lane shrugged. "It's for the best. Either I started selling all the Christian soft rock my mom keeps sending me or throw them in the fireplace."

A pair of footsteps came thundering down the basement stairs.

"Mom, someone wants to rent a clarinet!"

"Did you tell them about the loss and damage protection plan, Kwan?" Lane yelled back.

"Yeah!"

Lane turned back to Rory with a smile. "I've taught him well. Wanna watch me up-sell a velvet line case that they 100% don't need?"

"Yes, please."

Lane climbed the basement stairs as fast as 6 months of pregnancy would allow her. Upstairs at Kim's Music Shoppe, Kwan stood behind the register, ringing up a customer.

"So," Kwan said, "That's a 3-month clarinet rental, the loss and protection plan, and beginners sheet music. Is that all?"

"Don't forget about the Teflon carrying case," Lane added.

"I need that?" the customer asked.

Rory browsed the Mrs. Kim approved section of soft Christian rock while Lane did her thing. Being able to see Lane as much as she wanted was awesome. But seeing Lane with her business and kids was a constant reminder that she had crawled back home with her tail between her legs, a certified 30-something failure.

Plus, her mom was not making being back home any easier either. Along with a steaming plate of breakfast, the New York Times want ads were tucked under plate every morning. Luke knew better than that. She was a Yale graduate, her next career move was not going to come from the newspaper.

The contacts she had made the last ten years proved to be worthless. 500+ connections on LinkedIn and no one had the decency to email her a rejection. There was only silence. Terrible, terrible silence. Her inbox stayed empty, her coworkers from the WSJ wouldn't even follow her on Twitter. She had been submitting her resume to every newspaper in the northeast. At this rate, she'd have to start looking for work in California. Or worse, Portland.

When her phone rang, Rory nearly gave herself a concussion with how fast she slapped it to the side of her head. "Hello?"

"Rory! I'm glad I caught you." Emily said.

Rory's shoulders slumped. "Hey, grandma."

"Why haven't you been coming to Friday night dinners?" Emily asked, getting straight to the point.

"I've just been so busy with the move and finding a place for stuff and looking for another job, it's been slipping my mind."

"You see your mother, your brother, and, Luke leave the house every Friday evening in their Sunday best and it slips your mind? Don't give me that."

"Grandma–"

Emily didn't give her the chance to finish "Tomorrow night, you're coming over for dinner. See you then."

The line went dead. Rory took the phone away from her ear and stared at it disbelief.

It was dinner time.

–––––

"Oh-ho-ho. Nice of you to join us," Lorelai said as Rory walked in the foyer.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, rub it in. She cornered me today through the phone! How is that even possible?" Rory replied.

"It's the Emily Gilmore special, my dear. No one ever escapes."

"Are you talking about your mother or a Disney villain?" Luke asked, ushering them to the car.

Lorelai shrugged. "A little bit of both."

"Grandma said that she's going to show us something cool before dinner," James said from the backseat as they turned into Emily's street.

"Cool? Emily Gilmore would never say 'cool'." Rory replied.

"She didn't say it, she texted it. Duh."

Rory was floored. "Grandma texts? Since when?" Rory leaned between the front seats to look at Lorelai.

"When was Grandma replaced by some sort of pod person that texts?"

"Don't think you'll be getting that privilege, she only texts James because she says, and I quote, "Young people don't talk on the phone anymore, Lorelai."

Rory gasped, "Are you implying that I am no longer a young person?"

"Honey, you were born in the 80's. You're geriatric."

"What does that make you, you were born in the–"

"Ah! Don't say it. I'm still 32."

"Gosh Luke," Rory said. "Almost 50 and dating a 32-year-old. Niiiice."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Get outta the car before I turn around and drive us all off a cliff."

"Sounds good to me!" Rory replied.

"Out," Luke said.

Rory stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her. The four of them stood on the stoop of Emily's home, shivering in the cool air of October. Luke lifted his hand to ring the doorbell when Lorelai stopped him.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Ringing the doorbell?"

"Without having the before dinner strategy? Are you insane?"

"Lorelai, c'mon. I thought we already had our strategy or whatever."

"That's when it was just the three of us. Rory's here now, so our equilibrium is outta wack. James, keep being cute. Really pile on how much fun you're having at school. Luke, if worse comes to worst bend over. She told me when she hopped on pills after her hip surgery that you had a firm butt, so really use it."

"Oh my god," Luke said with a shake of his head.

"Rory lay it on thick with how much you missed her. Don't talk about being busy. I'm warning you."

Rory held up her hands. "Fine, fine. What about you? What are you gonna do?"

"Try to keep my mouth shut?"

Luke, James, and Rory stared at her.

"Yeah, maybe I'll bend over a lot tonight," Luke said before ringing the bell.

An unfamiliar maid opened the door and took everyone's coats.

Emily greeted them in the foyer, hand clasped around a glass of wine.

"Rory, how nice of you to join us," Emily said, a cold gleam in her eye.

Rory smiled in a way that she was only sure didn't look like a grimace.

"Shall we go into the living room?" Emily said before turning and walking away.

Lorelai nudged Rory with her elbow "For once, I'm not the problem child. Good going, kid."

They followed Emily into the living room in a single file line. Together, they stopped and stared slack-jawed at the newest painting on Emily's wall.

"Oh wow," Rory said.

"Good god," said Luke.

"Whoa," Lorelai said.

James was stunned into silence.

Emily stood next to the massive portrait of Richard Gilmore that took up the entire wall of the living room.

"Do you like it?" she asked. "I based it off one of my favorite pictures of Richard."

"It's so...big," Lorelai said.

"Of course it is. A smaller portrait would never become him."

James stared up at the portrait walked side to side back and forth. Everyone watched him for a while before Emily asked, "What are you doing?"

"His eyes are following me."

"What?" Emily asked, "That's ridicu–" she walked back and forth. And then side to side. Lorelai and Rory followed.

Emily put a hand to her chest, "Oh my goodness, you're right! I knew I shouldn't have gone with Sandra Babcock's painter! The man's a hack! I'll have to cover it up."

"No, no, no, don't do all that." Lorelai said, "All you have to do is get a giant blindfold. You know, it's never too late to spice things up in the bedroom. Not to say your and dad's bedroom wasn't mega spicy before because here I am. Mmhmm, I'm going to shut up now."

Emily raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "You're back to your nonsensical babbling self. I guess you're feeling better."

"When has she not been feeling better?" Rory asked. She turned to Lorelai in time to see her shaking her head. "Are you sick?"

"Sick is a strong word, right James?" Lorelai replied.

"She's puked so much after our dinners that grandma keeps firing her cooks."

Lorelai gasped. "I can't believe I gave birth to a snitch!"

"And at the end of every dinner, she's so exhausted from puking she has to lie down for an hour," Luke added.

"Not only did I give birth to a snitch, but I married one? I'm about to be one very hot divorcee," said Lorelai.

"God, mom why didn't you tell me?" Rory asked.

"How could she? You're just so busy aren't you, Rory?" Emily said.

"Can we forget about it, please? I'm starving and I can smell the food from here. Let's eat."

"Fine," Emily said before walking into the dining room.

They followed after her and shuffled into their seats around the table. Rory blinked at the empty seat sitting across from Emily. She realized that the last time she had dinner with her grandmother, Richard had been alive. The food she was so looking forward to began to sound unappealing. The maids brought out the dinner. Pot roast with mashed potatoes and carrots for everyone. Except. A maid placed a bowl of thin soup in front of her.

"Excuse me, I think my order got mixed up with someone else's. Can I talk to the manager please?"

The maid looked at Emily, who waved her away. Emily picked up her fork and knife. "There's no mistake. You get organic chicken soup for dinner. Your stomach obviously can't handle any rich food."

"No, it can! It can handle the most expensive food! This is so unfair mom. You're punishing me for being sick, that's cruel, even for you."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Fine." Emily waved over another maid. "Take this soup and bring my daughter a plate of pot roast. Thank you."

"Wow, grandma, thanking the maids. Very progressive." Rory said.

Emily sniffed at her. "Yes. So, Luke, how are things at the diner?" she asked turning to Luke.

After the scalding snubbing, Lorelai leaned over to Rory and whispered, "Remember how I told you not to talk about being busy, try not talking at all. Mom's in a mood tonight."

The rest of the dinner continued the same way. Everyone receiving warm, or as warm as she could be, conversation from Emily while Rory was given the coldest of cold shoulders. The only good thing about being there was how often a maid opened up a new bottle of wine. Rory was on her third glass. Or was it fifth?

It wasn't until Emily was in her 3rd tumbler of scotch that Rory was getting more than an eyebrow raise in response. They had relocated back to the sitting room, a large tarp thrown over Richard's massive portrait. James had tapped out and was sleeping in one of the guest rooms. A maid rolled by with the drink cart.

"Would anyone like a drink?"

Luke shook his head, "I'm trying to get these guys home in one piece. No thanks."

Lorelai waved the idea away. "If I even smell a drink, I'm going to puke." She sat up. "Oh boy." She scrambled off the couch and to the nearest bathroom.

"I better go hold back her hair. Last time I forgot she added it to her mental list of things to divorce me for." Luke said, getting up to follow after her.

Emily huffed. "I told her this would happen. I'll have to tell the maid to bring a bucket into the guest room. I will not be paying to have my heirloom rugs steam cleaned twice in one month." she finished with a smile.

Rory thanked the maid her tall glass of gin and tonic. The idea of asking Emily to float her some money had been rolling around in Rory's head since she came back to Stars Hollow. It had never been the right moment. How would it look, begging for money from Emily when that hadn't seen each other in person since the funeral? But now, Emily was a little drunk, and they had had a decent dinner.

"Grandma," Rory said, looking up at her beneath her lashes, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course Rory, what is it?"

Rory took a deep breath. "I need a favor."


	4. Chapter 4

"Yes?" Rory glanced around at the maids tiptoeing around the living room. "Can we talk in the study?" she asked.

"Of course." Emily gestured to one of the maids, "Bring a bottle of wine to the study."

They walked into what used to be Richard's study. Emily sat in the leather chair and while Rory sat in the seat across from her. Rory wracked her brain trying to figure out a way to beg Emily for money, without sounding like she was begging. The maid that walked in with a cold bottle of wine and Rory gladly let her glass be topped up.

"Well, what is it?" Emily asked.

Rory took a deep breath. "Can you give me the money from grandma Trix's trust?"

There was a moment of silence that stretched so long that Rory near exploded from the tension.

"I don't see why not," Emily said with a limp wave of her hand. "It's been taking up space in my accountant's file cabinet. I'll make an appointment tomorrow and we sort this whole thing out."

Rory sighed in relief before nodding. "That sounds nice. We can have lunch, too."

"That sounds wonderful! There's this little bistro…"

And just like that, everything fell back into place. There was no more sneering or puckered lips, only the Emily she remembered. The Emily who knew Rory had a bright future and would stop at nothing to help her get there. As the night wound down, the flitted from topic to topic, sharing laughs and sweet smiles. Emily glanced at the clock above Rory's head.

"10:30 already? Your mother must be dying to escape. I should let you get home."

Rory nodded and stood. She hung on to the back of the chair as her knees buckled. She guessed she had drunk a bit too much. Despite the amount

"Okay. So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll send a car over. Are you going to do anything fun with the money? I always thought it would be so cute if you opened a boutique or a bakery."

"Um," Rory said with a laugh, "I actually need it."

"For what?" Emily asked.

"To live?" Rory laughed. "Living in New York was a little more expensive than I thought and I used up my graduation gift."

Emily said nothing before slowly shaking her head with a snort.

"Of course, of course! Why else would you visit your widowed grandmother, if not to have her clean up your messes again?"

Rory's mouth dropped open, "Grandma, that's not what I'm doing. I've been busy–"

"Certainly not too busy to waste $100,000! Honestly, what have you been doing with the Yale education your grandfather and I paid for? Writing crappy little articles, and quitting your job whenever you feel like it because you think I'll always bail you out?"

Rory fumbled to deny the truth.

"Oh please, did you really think I wouldn't look into your "firing"? You're 32 years old and you quit a job people would kill to have because they didn't pat you on the head and tell you what a good job you were doing? What did you want from them, Rory? A gold star? This is the real world!"

"I know that this is the real world, I'm trying my best!"

"You're not trying you're failing! You have had every opportunity gift wrapped and handed to you and you haven't done a thing with them. Not one thing! You couldn't even graduate from Yale on time, for goodness sake."

"You told me I could drop out, you told me it was okay!"

"Well, I was wrong, Rory. Do you hear that, wrong! I was wrong to coddle you and solve your problems for you. Maybe then you would have turned out to be more than a trust fund baby who has no idea how to survive."

Rory wiped her the tears from her eyes. "You think you know how to survive? You've never worked a day in your life! The hardest work you ever did was chasing mom away from you."

Emily stalked closer to Rory and crossed her arms. "Yes, big bad Emily, chasing away poor little Lorelai. Fine, if that's how you think of me, then fine. But at least Lorelai made something of herself. She didn't come crawling back home, begging for money when things got too hard for her. You're not half the woman she turned out to be. Your grandfather would be so ashamed."

At the mention of Richard, the wine in Rory's stomach turned to acid. "Ashamed of me? Look in the mirror! Mom times her visits because she knows that being around is like being poisoned. You ran every Gilmore out of this house. You don't know how to exist unless you're stepping on someone. I think it's great the Grandpa died before he could watch James grow up and hate you too."

Emily's lips snapped shut. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rory swallowed around the cotton in her mouth and watched Emily take out a checkbook. She signed her name, tore it out and left it on the desk.

"Here. Write any number you want," she whispered before walking out the study.

–––

After Lorelai's clandestine meeting with the toilet, Luke did his husbandly duty and dragged her to one of the guest bedrooms to relax. Lorelai buried her head under the pillows, not giving a damn if she smeared her makeup on it. She felt the bed dip and peeked up at Luke. She frowned.

"You're making that face," she said.

"What face?" he asked.

"The 'face'. The 'I'm really worried about you but I can't make you do anything about it so I'm going to make this face until you do something about it' face. That face!" she replied.

"Is it working?" Luke asked.

"Kinda."

Luke sighed, "Lorelai."

"Ugh, I know, I know. But I've been so busy. With the money dad left I've been fixing so much stuff up at the Inn, James decided to be some sort of mutant athlete so he's got so much crap going on and Rory's back now so–"

"Hey," Luke said, leaning down to wrap his arms around her, "You realize you haven't been a single mother for, give or take, 10 years right? Whatever James's got going on, I'll take care of it. Michel could run that Inn in his sleep and you know it. Rory's a grown woman, she'll be fine. You need to go to the doctor and figure out what's going or I'll keeping making that face. You're gonna have to bury me with that face."

Lorelai pulled Luke closer and sighed. He was right, yet again. She had been letting things pile up to ignore whatever the hell was going on with her body. She was at the age when things started to fall apart. Emily was still kicking because evil never dies, but her father was as healthy as a man his age could be and still…

Afraid as she was to find out the truth, Lorelai couldn't live in fear of food. She'd never say it out loud, but she loved food a tab bit more than Luke and the kids.

"Okay," Lorelai said, rolling onto her back and pulling Luke down on top of her. "I'll take the day off and drive into town and let them steal a liter of my blood."

"Good. Cause I wasn't kidding about the face." Luke said before they both broke down into giggles.

Lorelai lifted her head for a kiss but Luke pulled back with a grimace. "Puke mouth," he said when he saw Lorelai's confused face. Lorelai grinned and yanked him back down.

"In sickness and health, Danes that's what you promised. Gimme those lips!" she said.

"Fine," Luke said with a grumble before diving in for a kiss. Even with the puke mouth, it was damn good.

"Ready to go home?" Luke asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

"Yeah, I can't sleep here. There is not one US magazine that you can read to me."

"Maybe we should spend the night here."

Lorelai laughed and pushed him off before sitting up. "Don't pretend you don't read them. Let's grab the kids and blow this popsicle stand."

They found James curled up in Lorelai's old room. Lorelai slipped his shoes back on and Luke gently tossed him over his shoulder. Not wanting to wander the mansion looking for Rory, Lorelai went to the kitchen to find a maid.

"Hey, do you know where Rory is?" she asked.

"Oh, Ms. Gilmore took a taxi home about half an hour ago." the maid replied.

Weird. "Oh, okay. I guess I'll just say goodnight to mom–"

"Actually, Mrs. Gilmore wasn't feeling well and went to bed early. She's sorry she couldn't spend the night with you."

That was strange. Lorelai had never known her mother to abandon guests for anything, even if she was the guest. One of Emily's favorite stories was about the night of her birth. She threw a dinner party and didn't head to the hospital until every guest had left.

"Oh-kay, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Danes." the maid said before turning back to the dishes.

Lorelai took her coat from the maid at the front door and hopped into the car where Luke had buckled James in. Luke looked over from behind the wheel.

"Where's Rory?" he asked as she closed the door.

"The maid said she took a taxi home like, half an hour ago. Did she text you that she was leaving?"

Luke pulled out of the driveway, "I dunno, I left my phone at home."

"What's the point of having a mobile phone if it's never mobile?"

"To stop my wife from nagging that I needed a phone."

"Oh! Luke that is so going in my "Why I divorced you" journal."

"You threatening to divorce me every 10 minutes is going into my "why I divorced you" journal," Luke replied.

The shrill ring of Lorelai's phone cut off her response. A picture of Rory's smiling face flashed across the screen.

"You know Rory, the deal was to spend the entire night with her. You cheated!" Lorelai said as she answered.

"Sorry! But I got an email about an interview for a magazine in Brooklyn tomorrow morning so I had to run home and pack."

"You okay? You sound a little sniffly. You got your flu shot right?"

"Mom, It's no big deal. I'm just bushed. I ran home and packed a bunch of stuff and then ran back and had to grab a train. My old bones aren't used to this kind of exercise."

"Ugh, you have to stop calling yourself old. I can feel more wrinkles forming. Well, good luck with your interview!"

"Bye mom, tell Luke I said bye!"

Lorelai hung up. "Rory says bye. She got an email for an interview tomorrow so she's on her way to New York. She sounded a little sick, though."

"Did she get her flu shot?" Luke asked.


	5. Chapter 5

Rory peered out of the train window and tried to focus on the darkness blurring passed her and not at her red, blotchy face. A duffle bag of clothes sat under her feet as she clutched her grandmother's check tightly in her hands. Her apartment gone, and her connections down to nothing, Rory called on an old friend. She put the phone to her ear and waited.

"It's midnight, three pregnant women threw up in my office, I almost cracked my head open when my heel broke, and, the sound of this phone woke up both my children who have been up all day with the flu. You better have a damn good reason for calling me or I–"

"Paris, it's me, Rory!"

"Oh, Rory!" Despite not having spoken to her for so long, it still amazed Rory how fast Paris went from homicidal to happy. "I haven't talked to you in forever, how's your mom?"

"She's good, she's good. How's the clinic? Doyle posted about your second location on Instagram, congrats."

Rory bit her fingernail while Paris told her about her fertility clinic between the sounds of sick toddlers. "You should come see it and think about donating your eggs. Scratch that, see if you can ask Lorelai about her eggs. A successful geriatric pregnancy by a man with the least symmetrical scrotum I've ever seen? She's a marvel, my colleagues and I would love to study her tubes."

Ignoring the fact that Paris was so intimate with her stepfather's scrotum, Rory replied, "I think I might take you up on that offer. In about 3 and a half hours or so?"

"You're moving back to New York? Lorelai's Facebook status seemed pretty excited to have you back in ye olde Stars Hollow."

"Moving, God no, I'm staying a few days for a job interview. But I need a place to stay. Are any of Doyle's places free?"

The silence on the end of the line was long enough to convince Rory that she had pushed her luck. Who would blame Paris for telling Rory to fuck off for asking to live in one her husband's properties for free after not speaking for 3 years?

"Ugh, sorry, Cassandra was doing her pee dance. False alarm, she's just high on all the meds. Doyle has a place in Greenwich that just kicked out a couple of trust fund losers. With the amount of booger sugar they were snorting, they probably won't notice that they're still paying for utilities for a while. The new decor's garbage, the doorman's a pervert and the bed couldn't hold up a pillow, much less an adult woman. You want it?"

"I'll take anything. Thank you, Paris. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"I'll text you the address and tell the doorman you're on your way. Yes, you do owe me one."

"What?"

"Dexter, take your fingers out of there! Rory, I have to go, come by my office after your interview, we'll get lunch. Bring your wallet. Cassandra McMaster! Get off your brother."

With that, Paris ended the call and Rory mumbled a belated bye into her phone. She tucked her phone away and unfolded the check. Rory ran a finger over the empty space where she could write any amount of money she wanted. Every time she had made up her mind about the amount, Rory could never put the pen to paper. Her guilt covered her like a heavy blanket. Rory bit at her index finger again as her words bounced around in her skull.

'I think it's great the Grandpa died before he could watch James grow up and hate you too.'

Getting drunk and saying things you didn't mean had to be as hereditary as running away from Emily Gilmore. Rory tried to see her current situation as a blessing in disguise. Had she spent another week in Stars Hollow, she would've had a nervous breakdown. Stars Hollow was quaint and sweet and cute, but Rory hadn't been interested in quaint and sweet and cute since she was quaint and sweet and cute. It was like living in her own, way more boring Groundhog Day.

Thinking about what she was going to do when she got to New York made her pre-hangover turn into a real one. Rory picked up her phone and did what all miserable 30-somethings did when they were alone.

Scroll on Instagram.

––––

Being away from Paris for so long made Rory forget what a creative embellisher she was. The doorman had a slightly different opinion about how personal, personal space actually was, but he was not the deviant that Rory had cooked up in her mind. The apartment decor was Pinterest perfect, but nothing awful. The wooden bed frame groaned a bit when she flopped down on it, but Rory doubted it crumble under her. Rory could understand how Paris hated this apartment, though. The 'Live. Laugh. Love' poster in the living almost made her vomit. Though, that could've been the wine.

Rory crawled out of her dinner dress and changed into the joke skeleton onesie that Lorelai had given her one Christmas way back when. She pulled up Postmates on her phone. New York may have been the land of gourmet foods but Rory was Lorelai Gilmore's only daughter. When the going got tough, the tough ate garbage fast food. However, now that the tough was of legal drinking age, the tough got booze. Lots and lots of booze. While her order was on the way, Rory opened her laptop and cranked up her secret misery music, sweet Celine Dion. With the amount of money this building charged its tenants, the soundproofing had to be immaculate.

Half an hour later, Rory was in the possession of a large triple cheese and pepperoni pizza and the cheapest bottle of cabernet that any liquor store open at 2 in the morning could offer. Rory didn't remember pressing repeat but All By Myself had been playing on a loop since her 3rd slice of pizza. It was nothing short of spectacular. Somewhere between her 5th slice of pizza and her 3rd glass of wine, Rory dozed off. She woke up to one hell of a pounding in her head. She buried herself under the pillows and willed her brain to stop banging on the inside of her skull. After a while, Rory realized that the pounding wasn't coming from her head, but from the front door.

"Hey," the knocker yelled through the door, "If you commit suicide under my condo, my property value is going to tank. That's not very neighborly."

Rory smushed the pillow closer to her face and waited for her new "neighbor" to move on.

"Alright, could you at least commit suicide to something better than Celine Dion? She wasn't a good singer then and she's not now."

Now, sober Rory would have let that statement slide. But hungover, still a little drunk Rory, could not ignore it. She was ranting even before she got to the door.

"Celine Dion is a North American, Grammy award-winning, treasure! Maybe if you spent a little less time listening to Kid Rock and scratching your ass you would be able to recognize–" she said as she yanked the door open, "Her talent and..."

The end of Rory's rant came to a crashing halt when the tone-deaf neighbor turned out to be none other than Logan Huntzberger. He had the same stupidly blond hair, blue eyes, and gorgeous face with the addition of about 2 wrinkles. For a brief moment, he looked as surprised as she felt. But as usual, Logan knew how to roll with the punches. A familiar smile stretched across his face as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"Rory Gilmore, as I live in breathe. I thought I recognized the sound of that lecture."

"Logan, you're here. In front of me. In New York. Why are you in New York?"

"Oh you know," he replied with a shrug, "You make a few millions a year and suddenly you can live wherever you want. And you?"

"Just hanging out."

"Really? It's been a while since I hung out. Mind if I join you?"

Logan didn't wait for her response and slipped passed Rory. She shut the door and ran after him. He decided the living room wasn't fun enough and went straight to the bedroom, where Rory had made an absolute tornado of the place. Without batting an eye, Logan shoved her laptop to the side, kicked off his shoes and reclined on the bed. He picked up the near-empty bottle of wine on the nightstand and took a swig.

"Ugh, I remember you having better taste than this," he said with a wince before draining it.

He picked up a slice of cold pizza, took a bite and smiled up at her. "So Ace, how ya been?"

Rory's hangover had settled into the base of spine and sucked out any energy she had to deal with whatever Logan was trying to do. She ran her hands through her hair and closed her eyes.

"Logan, what are you doing here?" Rory asked.

"Hanging out," Logan replied with a wink.

"Logan."

Logan sat up with a laugh. "Oh come on! I see the girl who broke my heart for the first time in ten years and she's drinking shitty wine, blasting Celine Dion, and, dressed like a baby but I'm not allowed to bask in it? That's just not cricket."

"Well bask away. Bask away in the fact that I had to move back in with my mother at 32 years old."

"Meh, the Journal is hack paper anyways," Logan replied.

He laughed at the look of surprised on Rory's face. "Your grandmother wasn't very subtle about wanting to find out who fired you at her D.A.R. meetings."

"I'm gonna jump out of this window," Rory said, striding towards the window on the other side of the bed.

"Wait a second," Logan said, sitting up and pulling her between his spread legs, "I got a better idea. Why don't you come up to my penthouse, drink some very expensive wine and jump from my window. The view is much better."

The sunlight streaming through the window draped Logan in a halo of warmth. It might have been bottles of cheap wine or the onset of self-loathing, but Rory was suddenly chilly. Rory pushed Logan down on the bed and climbed on top of him. When Rory kissed him, she imagined. She imagined that she was 22, 10 lbs lighter, and had a future. Rory imagined that she wasn't a desperate, broke, jobless woman about to sleep with the man whose proposal she refused, it was her boyfriend and she loved him. She loved the way he kissed her neck and grabbed her hair and whispered into her neck when he was close. She loved the way he carried her up to his penthouse and poured her wine and stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

She loved him.

Rory woke up to the sound of the city rushing by outside. Logan's bare chest pressed up against her back while his arms caged her. Rory snuggled into the pillow and intertwined their hands together. For the life of her, she couldn't remember why she had turned down Logan's proposal all those years ago. Why hadn't she married him and gone to England? What had she been afraid of? She brought Logan's hand up to her face and kissed his knuckles. Maybe it was time to give Logan another chance. It had to be fate that she and Logan were in the same building. How could Rory look fate in the eyes and say no?

Rory's eyes snapped open when her lips touched cold metal. She was holding Logan's left hand. On his ring finger was a smooth silver band.

He was married.

Rory's stomach lurched and she launched herself out of the bed. She didn't know where the bathroom or the sink was so she aimed straight for the window. She wrenched it open in the nick of time and vomited up every ounce of wine and every crumb of pizza. Sweaty and exhausted, Rory draped herself on the ledge.

"You know Ace, I was joking about the suicide thing," Logan said, pulling her inside.

Rory jerked out of his arms. "Don't touch me," she said.

"Come on, Rory, let's have a little more wine and go back to bed," he replied, grabbing her wrist.

"Get away from me!" Rory pulled her arm away and walked around the bedroom, picking up her underwear and onesie.

Logan stalked after her, "What the hell is your problem, Rory?"

"You're married!"

Logan glanced down at his wedding ring and rolled his eyes. "Are you serious? You're upset about the ring? What, do you want me to take it off?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you sleep with me? Why didn't you stop me!?"

"You seemed pretty determined."

"I was drunk!" Rory shot back.

"Are you saying that I raped you? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Rory threw her clothes across the room. "I'm saying that you're married. You're a married man and I–we can't do this again, okay?"

Rory took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. "I'm gonna get my clothes and go. We can pretend that this never happened. I won't tell your wife or my mom or whatever. We can forget about it."

She walked passed Logan and found her clothes and pulled up her underwear. She pulled her bra straps over her shoulders and paused. She licked her lips.

"Can you hook me up?"

She heard Logan walk towards her. Goosebumps covered her body as Logan's fingers brushed against her back and hooked her bra closed. Logan draped himself over Rory's back and pressed his neck into her face. His warm hands gripped her hips.

"Logan," Rory began.

"I wouldn't have slept with you if I was in love with another woman, Rory. Odette's family owns one of the biggest publishing monopolies in Europe and my father was itching to expand. Odette needed a green card and I needed my father to leave me the hell alone. She knows the deal, Rory. You're not breaking up a happy home or whatever you're thinking in that big head of yours."

Rory sighed. "My head isn't big." She turned around but kept her eyes glued to the floor. "So, it's like a merger or something?"

Logan tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eyes, "Absolutely feudal. Odette lives in L.A. with her boyfriend. We get together for the holidays and take pretty pictures for the press. We agreed that when things needed to change that we'd change them."

"Are things changing?" Rory asked.

Instead of replying, Logan pulled her even tighter against his body and kissed her. His hands slipped across her shoulders and down her back. He took her hand and led her to the bed. Things were certainly changing.


	6. Chapter 6

Lorelai couldn't keep her eyes off Luke's jean-clad butt. It swished from this way and that as he fixed up breakfast. She couldn't understand the physics of it. The man never worked out a day in his life and yet, it was so firm, so juicy. She was so immersed in her appreciation of the butts of all butts, that she didn't notice when Luke put breakfast on the table in front of her.

Luke waved a hot cup of coffee under her nose. She took the cup and sipped.

"Mmm, you make the best coffee, Lukey," she said with a grin.

"Please don't use those handsy broads from the bridge club as an example on how to say my name," Luke replied, sitting down to eat his own breakfast.

"James!" He hollered, "Are you reading the bible up there or what? Come get your breakfast!"

"I love when you use your dad voice. It's so hot. Totally DILF status." Lorelai said before digging into her food.

Luke paused and set down his fork. "The hell is a DILF?"

"It stands for Dad I'd Like to "F" word you tell me not to say," James said as he threw himself in the chair.

Luke shot Lorelai a look who only giggled behind her coffee mug in response.

James was playing with his phone while eating his breakfast. After failing to put his fork into his mouth for the 3rd time, Luke sighed.

"Hey, you know the rules, no phones at the table. Eat your breakfast."

James rolled his eyes but did as Luke said. Lorelai laughed and ruffled his hair as she stood to refill her mug.

"You know mom," James said, mouth full of food, "My gym teacher says that people who drink too much coffee are no better than drug addicts."

"Coach Rabinowitz is calling other people addicts? That's rich coming from a guy who's been drinking his breakfast since '95. Well, I guess I can try to get a room at the same rehab as Elizabeth Taylor. Very glam."

"Who?" James asked.

"Why did I even bother watching TCM for 9 months straight if you don't even know who Elizabeth Taylor is?" Lorelai replied. "Luke, get this fetus away from me."

James giggled and gave Lorelai a hug goodbye before running out the door.

"Come by the diner right after your appointment, okay?" Luke said before walking over and giving her a kiss.

"Aye, aye captain."

Luke rolled his eyes and turned away before jumping at the swat Lorelai gave his ass.

"Make me lots of money!" Lorelai yelled after him.

Lorelai heard the door close and checked her phone between sips of coffee. Rory had been MIA all weekend. Lorelai knew Rory had her own life but it was unusual for her to not even send a 'super busy love u!' text. Lorelai's stomach grumbled and she sighed. It was obvious that her stomach was done for the day already. She frowned at her plate of golden brown pancakes, fluffy eggs, and crisp bacon. She scraped half into Paul Anka's bowl and half into Zsa-Zsa's. At least someone would get to enjoy Luke's cooking.

–––––––

Lorelai burst into the clinic waiting room and jogged up to the counter. The nurse behind the desk looked up at her, unimpressed.

"Good morning," Lorelai glanced down at her name tag, "Olga. Lorelai Danes to see Dr. Singh."

Olga looked down her nose at the computer screen and tapped away without a word. She looked up at Lorelai.

"You're late."

"Crazy, right? But you know how the traffic is up here and I had to drive up from Stars Hollow so–"

Olga plucked her pen out of her frizzy red hair and pointed to the waiting room, "Sit."

"Oh-kay. I guess Dr. Singh will be with me shortly?" Lorelai asked.

Olga said nothing and raised a thin eyebrow in response.

"Cool, cool. I'll just take a seat." For some reason Lorelai couldn't understand, she threw Olga a thumbs up. Oh, if looks could kill.

She threw herself down in the plastic chair and tugged her hat off her head. The morning had been going so well. Luke had woken her up so early that there was no way that she would be late for her appointment. But as she was heading out the door, her stomach did a quadruple backflip somersault into hell. The vomit-coaster had taken her on a 15-minute ride. It then took another 30 minutes for her to feel anywhere near okay to drive.

Lorelai shifted in pain as her stomach cramped. She checked her phone again, still no sign from Rory. Her phone vibrated and Lorelai scrambled to check, in case it was Rory. No luck. Just Michel bemoaning the lack of style the members of the North East Psychology Conference, who were spending the week at the Inn, had. Lorelai had thought up a great response when Olga called her name.

"Room 3."

"Thanks." Like a child who didn't know better, Lorelai gave her another thumbs up. She scurried away when she saw how tight the nurse was holding her pencil.

The exam room was empty when Lorelai walked in. She hoisted herself on the table without the crinkly wax paper making too much noise. While Lorelai was waiting, she looked around. Not much had changed since she had been here for her annual physical. The jar of gumdrops on Dr. Singh's bookshelf was new though. It was a very full jar. Dr. Singh wouldn't notice if she took a few. Lorelai grabbed a cup from the water cooler in the corner and tip-toed over. She filled her cup and sat back down on the table. The first gumdrop was sweet and sticky and ooey-gooey chewy. Why had it been so long since she had a gumdrop? She married a man who worked next to a candy shop for God sakes.

Lorelai had only just disposed of the candy cup when the door opened.

"Good morning," Dr. Singh said, "Candy?" She picked up the jar and offered it to Lorelai.

Lorelai felt beads of sweat pepper her forehead and spit pool up in her mouth. Now she remembered why it had been months since she had a gumdrop. Lorelai turned her head to the side to be polite and vomited on the tiles.

––––

Dr. Singh walked Lorelai to a vacant exam room while a custodian was called to clean up the mess. Dr. Singh tutted as she took Lorelai's vitals.

"You should've gone to the ER if you were having a medical emergency."

"Since when is puking a medical emergency?"

"Lorelai Danes vomiting at the sight of candy is a medical emergency." Dr. Singh replied. "You've only been having stomach problems?" She asked.

"I wish. I've been super tired lately even when I sleep for, like, 10 hours. I've been having a lot of headaches too."

"How long has this been going on?" Dr. Singh asked.

"2 months, I think?"

Dr. Singh nodded. "Okay, lay down and lift your shirt, please. Unbutton your pants too."

Lorelai did and like usual, opened her mouth when she really didn't need to. "It usually takes a few daiquiris to get me like this during the daytime," she said with a laugh.

Dr. Singh paused as she put on her gloves and raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, I made it weird. I'll shut up now."

Dr. Singh pressed on her stomach from the top down. Lorelai winced at the pressure. Dr. Singh nodded before standing straight and taking off her gloves. She picked a tablet up off the desk and tapped away.

"Have you gained any weight?" she asked.

Lorelai buttoned her pants and sat up, "Definitely not."

"Have you been feeling fuller lately? Like the feeling that you've already eaten a meal but you've only taken a few bites?"

"Actually, yeah that's been happening a lot."

"And you have been nauseous and have been vomiting often. Are you bruising easier?"

"I don't know, I haven't really checked," Lorelai asked.

"Hmmm." Dr. Singh tapped away at the tablet again.

"I don't speak doctor. Is that 'hmmm' good or 'hmmm' bad?"

Dr. Singh continued to focus on her tablet, "It's an 'I have a few thoughts about your symptoms' hmmm, Lorelai."

"Thoughts like what?"

"Thoughts like how to treat something you might have. But I won't know for sure until we do some tests. Blood, urine, the usual."

Looking up at last Dr. Singh said, "I'd like to do these tests right away. I'll grab a nurse for you." She turned to walk out of the room.

"Wait, wait, wait. Dr. Singh," Lorelai said, hopping off the exam table to go after her. "You can't throw out that you have 'thoughts' about what's wrong with me and not share them."

"Lorelai, I don't like to make assumptions or diagnoses without facts and results. There's no point in getting you upset like that."

"Why would I get upset? What's so upsetting?" Lorelai asked.

Dr. Singh sighed. She finally realized that Lorelai wouldn't give up until she had an answer. "Do you really want to know what I think, Lorelai?"

"Yes!"

"At your age and with your symptoms, it's most likely that you have some form of B-cell malignancy."

"I–I don't know what that means," Lorelai replied.

"I think you might have cancer."

––––

Lorelai blinked at the sting of the needle in her arm. The nurse put a bandage in the crook of her arm before handing her a urine sample cup.

"When you're done, just leave the cup on the sink."

Lorelai nodded and got up to use the bathroom. She felt like she was floating. She left the cup on the sink and washed her hands. As she opened the door to the clinic, Lorelai turned and walked back to the front desk.

"Hi, I'd like to change my contact information, please."

Lorelai bit her lip as her shaking fingers refused to help her unlock the car door. When she did unlock the car door, Lorelai sat there gripping the steering wheel in silence. There were too many thoughts in her head. She needed a moment. An hour passed before Lorelai's body cooperated well enough to drive back home. On autopilot, she drove straight to Luke's. By the time Lorelai realized how badly she wanted to drive home and crawl into bed, Luke had already spotted her through the window.

Luke gave her a quick kiss on her cheek and pressed a hot mug of coffee into her hands. The diner was packed. The only way she managed to get a spot at the counter was by elbowing a slow going granny out of the way.

"So," Luke said in the middle of refilling coffees, "How'd the appointment go?"

"A stomach bug. It's on its way out. She said it probably wouldn't have stuck around so long if I ate more fruit and vegetables and drank more water. Can you believe that? Gross." Lorelai replied.

"Sounds like she knows what she's talking about," he replied, taking her coffee away and returning with a glass of cold water.

"Oh come on, Luke! Are you going to take the advice of a doctor over the wants and needs of your wife?" she asked, holding the glass away from her face like it was poison.

"Yes, I would. Paul Anka knows how to eat a more balanced diet than you do."

Lorelai gasped. "He eats out of the garbage!"

"You think the food you eat isn't garbage?"

"One more crack like that mister and the next time April asks me if getting another piercing is a good idea, I'll say yes."

"Are you using my kids against me?" Luke asked.

"I never claimed to be a woman of God, Luke."

Luke rolled his eyes. "What can I get ya? Burger and fries?"

"Nah, I already ate. Dr. Singh had a big jar of gumdrops in her office."

"Candy is not food."

"Says you." Lorelai gave him a kiss and put her coat back on. "See you at home."

Whatever Luke was about to say was interrupted by an irate customer sitting at the counter. She slapped her hand on the counter.

"Come on, man! I've been trying to ask you a question for like, 10 minutes! What's your WIFI password? Geez."

Luke smiled and said, "Oh it's 'you've been at my counter for 2 hours and you've spent $2 get the hell out of my place'."

"Wait, can you spell that?" she replied, her head behind her screen.

Lorelai shook her head and walked outside. She didn't think she could handle Sookie and Michel without bursting into tears. She decided to take a walk. A few minutes into her a walk, a snowflake landed on the tip of her nose. She paused in the middle of the town square and looked up at the falling snow. She hadn't smelled a thing.


	7. Chapter 7

It was two long days of being glued to her phone before the clinic called. They wanted her to come in as soon as possible to discuss her results with Dr. Singh. Lorelai had to struggle to keep herself upright in the walk-in fridge when she ended the call. She sat down on a crate of potatoes and thought about what was left of her future. For two days, Lorelai had been too chicken to press search after she typed in b-cell malignancy on Google. It wasn't fair that she was going to die before even spending fifteen years with Luke. She knew Luke would be okay. She knew Rory would be okay.

But James.

When her dad had died, it took Lorelai a week before she could muster up the energy to do anything but cry and sleep as a grown woman. James wouldn't survive.

Lorelai jumped up when the door to the walk-in swung open. Sookie yelped at the sight of her and dropped the knife she was holding in surprise. Sookie threw out her hand to catch it, fumbled, and sliced open a finger.

"Oh ouch!" Sookie said with a giggle. "What are you doing back here?" she asked before taking the cloth hanging out of her pocket and wrapping it around her finger.

"Taking a call from my doctor, no biggie" Lorelai replied walking them both out into the kitchen.

"Since when do you talk to your doctor from the walk-in?" Sookie asked, letting an exasperated line chef wrap a bandaid on her cut.

"I'm trying to be a good boss. I think I would be breaking a few laws if I forced the kitchen to listen to my pap smear results."

The mostly male kitchen groaned in unison at Lorelai's answered.

"Hey! Grow up you guys, all of you should get used to hearing about it!" Sookie said. "Except you, Jack. You'll find Mr. Right someday."

Sookie turned back to Lorelai. "So, they find anything fun up there?" she asked.

"Okay, let's leave the kitchen before I get sent to boss lady jail."

"Aargh, I hate going to the doctor, I'm always afraid I'm gonna go in for a stomach ache and come out with cancer or something like that!" Sookie said as they walked into the dining room.

Lorelai knew that at that moment, she could pull Sookie to the side and tell her everything. She could have someone to yell with and cry with and talk about how it wasn't fair. People like her didn't get cancer. They didn't. She was healthy, she was happy. Sookie was the best friend she'd ever had. If there was ever a person that she could tell, it was Sookie. But the words couldn't come, they wouldn't come. It was like a hand was tightening around her throat when she started to speak about it. So she gave up. She let Sookie lead her into a conversation about next week's specials and about how Martha, Davey, and Bryan were driving her crazy.

–––––

Slipping out during her lunch break, Lorelai drove up to the clinic. With the way the nurse had moved appointments around so Lorelai could be seen that afternoon, she knew something bad was headed her way. She sat in the waiting room and thought about how she was going to talk to Emily about writing up a will. After Richard's first heart attack Emily took the reins when it came to settling their estate. God knows Lorelai knew nothing about it. When the nurse asked her to step into the exam room, Lorelai couldn't swallow around the lump in her throat.

The colorful posters about hand washing covering your mouth were more sinister than usual as Lorelai sat down on the exam table. She placed her coat in her lap and buried her hands in the fuzzy leopard print shag. She'd only bought it because when she and Luke passed it by at the mall a few years ago he claimed only an insane person would buy it. She stroked the coat and wished she could go back in time and stop herself from being such an idiot about Luke. She had wasted so much time making him chase her and leaving him when he needed her the most. She finally had him and she was about to leave him for good.

Dr. Singh walked in and closed the door behind her.

"Lorelai, thank you for coming in on such short notice. I've looked at your results and I have good news. You don't have cancer."

Immediately, tears sprung to Lorelai's eyes. When they started they wouldn't stop coming. "Oh my God. Holy shit! Oh, God!" Lorelai wiped her face, "Are you kidding? I was planning my will!"

Dr. Singh held up her hands, "To be fair, I did tell you that I only thought you had cancer and I didn't even want to tell you that."

Lorelai felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head. She felt like she could breathe again.

"Now that that's out of the way, I want to talk to you about something I found in your blood tests. Lorelai, when was your last period?"

That was a weird segue. "A real period? Years maybe? Lately, I spot or skip the whole the month. I assumed I crossed over, you know? Finally kicked the gynecological bucket. Why?"

"Lorelai, you're pregnant."

A sheet of white light passed before Lorelai's eyes.

"Excuse me?" she asked when her vision returned.

"Pregnant. You're pregnant." Dr. Singh repeated.

"I, uh, I don't think so. I have two kids–two really great kids–I know what it feels like to be pregnant, this isn't pregnant. I'm not pregnant. I'm 48, that's what I am."

"It's uncommon but it's not impossible for a woman your age to conceive. Many geriatric pregnancies occur shortly before menopause because of a small burst of fertility. A last-ditch effort from your ovaries so that your uterus could do its job one more time."

"Are you sure? Really, really, really sure?" Lorelai asked.

"Really, really, really sure Lorelai. Your blood test confirmed it. However, I'm going to refer you to the Hearthwood Gynecological clinic. Your symptoms and your blood tests lead me to believe that your pregnancy could be high risk. They're a very good clinic, of course."

"Oh-okay." Lorelai said as she tied her coat closed and picked up her purse.

"Hey Lorelai," Dr. Singh said.

"Yeah?"

"It's going to be okay."

Lorelai nodded and closed the door behind her.

––––––

The call to Hearthwood was made in the walk-in once again. Next week she would be getting an ultrasound to see...it. Lorelai still couldn't wrap her head around it all. Pregnant at 48 years old. Lorelai sat down on a crate, kicked off her heels, and stared down at her knobby, crooked feet. Her back hurt when she woke up. Keeping up with James was sometimes too much effort for her. She was wrinkled and sagging and shrinking. What was happening?

Everything about...it made no sense. With Rory and James, her pregnancies were identical. The cravings, nausea, it was all so familiar. In fact, Lorelai realized she pregnant with James all on her own, despite not having been pregnant since she was 16. Lorelai didn't have time to think about...it. The holiday season was right around the corner. There were too many things to do and focusing on...this would put the Inn in a place she swore it would never be. Now was not the time.

––––––

"I can't believe you're going to let me stay here for free. Doyle I really owe you one." Rory said.

Doyle shrugged, "It's no big deal. You saved my ass plenty of times. Plus, Paris said if I didn't let you stay here, she'd bury me in the cellar and spend my life insurance money on young, hot, prostitutes."

"Gotta love that girl."

Doyle looked around the apartment and frowned, "You sure you don't want to change the furniture? Some of the model penthouses have some great stuff."

"No, I'm fine. I'm going to be way too busy looking for a job to care about what this place looks like. It's great."

"Okay, but you are free to go up there and steal some stuff. But not the lightbulbs, people will think you're on meth."

Rory laughed and punched him in the shoulder before ushering him to the front door. "Bye Doyle."

"Don't forget, Paris wants to have you over for dinner next week. She wants to show some slides of the most perfect ovary in the tri-state area."

"Nothing makes a dinner tastier than ovaries! I'll be there."

She closed the door behind him and pushed a few boxes out of the way to clear a path to the couch. Who knew it would take three weeks for her mom to FedEx everything to New York? Connecticut was practically five minutes away! Her phone vibrated and she picked it up with a sigh.

"Mom, I promise, I got all my boxes. Every single one. You don't have to keep calling to check."

"I just want to make sure! You can't trust FedEx people. Look at the way they park the trucks in the middle of the road during rush hour, they're shady!"

"Mom, are you ever going to forgive them for making you miss that plane?"

"I will when they let me beat that driver to the ground. Until then, I will complain furiously."

"So how's everything?" Rory asked.

"Oh you know, same old, same old. Luke's got a nice butt, James's making my hair go gray and your grandma has decided to like me even less, lately."

"How's that possible? The only person she likes less than you is the devil." Rory said, looking up as she heard the apartment door shut.

She smiled at Logan as he walked in, shaking the snow from his hair. He pressed a kiss to her temple on his way to the kitchen.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to send the devil a fruit basket cause he's moving up in the world. Hey, how's your new job?"

"It's great! I've never worked in a startup before so it's all pretty new. It's weird not needing a GPS to find my editor's office."

"The less exercise the better, I always say," Lorelai replied with a laugh.

"You've literally never said that before."

"Let's pretend I've always said it. So, what's it like living with Paris? Does she ration the fruit snacks? Do bed checks? Comb you for lice?"

"Mom, Paris is not that bad."

Rory took the glass of wine that Logan pressed into her hand. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he sat down next to her.

"Rory if Paris is listening, just say loudly and clearly that you love anchovy and cheese pizza. I'll drive down and pick you up right now. James's volleyball game be damned. Our couch is always open for you."

"Mom, how many times have I told you that you can't use me as an excuse to not to go to James's matches?"

"Ugh, too many. I gotta go. Luke's making that face again."

"Is it the 'are you really going to sit there and say that in front of me' face?"

"Yes! Bye!"

"Bye, mom."

Rory tossed her phone on the coffee table and took a large gulp of wine. Logan laughed and shook his head.

"Listening to you and your mom talk is like watching a tennis match. It's exhausting."

"You haven't heard her talk to Emily. Now that's a workout."

Logan put his feet up on the table and fiddled with his wine glass. "Sounds like granny hasn't called you, yet."

"Nope," Rory replied, draining her wine glass before getting up and going to the kitchen for a refill.

Logan wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against the counter.

"Don't worry about it, she'll come around. If she got over the whole 'stealing a yacht' thing, she'll get over this."

Rory took a sip of her wine. "Maybe I don't want her to get over this. You should have seen the way she looked at me and the stuff she said. Ugh. I don't even think I ever liked her."

Logan took the wine glass and drained it. "So? Who cares if you like her. You like her money, right? Why don't you just fill up that check and move on?"

"I don't need it. I can figure out something else on my own. I'll get a job, save some money and then rub my success in her pinched little face."

He turned Rory around in his arms. "That's petty and vindictive."

"Is it?"

"Yes. And I like it. You're getting more and more like me every day. This calls for a celebration. Lucky for us I made reservations at the Gramercy Tavern."

"Taking me out to dinner because I plan on getting revenge on my grandmother? I think you might be a bad influence on me Logan Huntzberger." Rory replied, playing with his shirt collar.

"Then my work here is done," he said as he leaned in to give her a kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

Rory cleaned her mouth with a napkin and watched Logan drain the last dregs of his wine glass.

"If I liked pickles, I'm pretty sure I could use your liver to top my burger. How are you not dead from all the wine you drink?" she asked.

"Been practicing since my bar mitzvah, kid. Keep up!"

Rory laughed and took a sip of her water. An ice cube lodged in her throat when she caught sight of the man walking through the restaurant door.

"Oh my god," she muttered as she looked down at her plate.

"What?" Logan asked.

"Your dad is here."

Logan's eyes widened in panic, "What?"

"Mitchum, your father, is here and is walking over right now."

Not wanting to look like guilt personified, Rory stayed put and flashed Mitchum a warm smile when he loomed over the table.

"I knew I recognized those eyes. How the hell are ya, Rory? I heard you kicked Wall Street Journal's ass to the curb. Good girl." Mitchum said, thrusting a gloved hand into Rory's face.

"Thanks," Rory said, shaking his hand.

Logan pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the table. Mitchum slapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Gosh Logan, don't smile too much, I might think you're happy to see me. Mind if I pull up a chair?"

Mitchum snapped his fingers and like magic, a waiter arrived with a chair and spirited away his coat and other outerwear. To Rory, Mitchum hadn't changed much. He looked the same as he did ten years ago. Broad, blond and mean, only with a little less hair on top.

A waiter dropped by with a glass and a bottle of wine. He filled Mitchum's glass and swept away. Mitch took a long, deep gulp with a satisfied sigh.

"How are your grandparents, Rory? Word on the street is that it's going to be a very good year for Richard."

Logan dumped half of the wine into his glass. "I find that hard to believe since he's been dead for a while."

Mitchum didn't have the decency to look chastised. "My apologies, Rory, I can't believe that slipped my mind."

The tension that surrounded the table was unbearable. Rory had to escape. Ten years hadn't put any Huntzberger animosity to rest.

"I'll be right back," Rory said giving in to her urges and speed walking to the bathroom.

Logan watched her scurry off with a sigh. He turned to his father.

"What are you even doing here? You hate New York."

Mitchum shrugged. "Your mother ordered another Birkin but was too doped up to come get it. You know those cheap bastards don't deliver. I saw the back of your head from my taxi, so I decided to pop in."

"Lucky me."

"No, no. Lucky me, I haven't seen Gilmore in a while, it's nice to know I was right. Walking away from the Wall Street Journal! The lights are on but nobody's home I guess."

"Don't start that shit, okay? I'm trying to have dinner with a friend, don't ruin it by being yourself."

Mitchum pulled out a cigar and lit it. "Fine. How's Odette?"

"She's fine."

"Fine? Just fine?"

"Yes, fine."

"I hear she's still living in the townhouse in Brooklyn."

"She needs the space for her studio," Logan replied. He topped off his glass of wine.

"How the hell do you expect to have a baby when you and your wife are living in two different boroughs?"

"Not this again. Odette doesn't want to have a kid now, okay? Leave it alone."

"And what about you, you don't want a son?"

"Who cares what I want? She doesn't want a kid, end of story."

A waitress timidly walked over to the table. "Sir, smoking isn't allowed here."

Mitchum blew out a puff of smoke. "Why don't you go tell someone who gives a shit, sweetheart."

The waitress scurried away and Mitch turned back to Logan. "You know it doesn't matter if she wants to have a baby or not, right? You just tell her without you, she can take her hippy ass back to London and she'll get into position."

Logan snatched Mitchum's cigar out of his hand and threw it into his wine glass. "I don't plan on taking marriage advice from a man whose wife is one bastard child away from slitting her wrists. Can you go now?"

Mitchum looked at his ash filled drink and chuckled. "Fine. But she's not getting any younger." He stood up and dropped a few bills on the table. "You can keep the cigar."

––––––––––––

Lorelai memorized the speckled dots on the ceiling while the ultrasound wand slid over her stomach. Dr. Washington was silent and was probably staring very hard at the screen. Lorelai didn't want to look. Lorelai had been sneaking away to see Dr. Washington twice a week for the last month. Dr. Washington, at the start, had been optimistic and firm but as the weeks went on, she became progressively more concerned. No matter how many pills Lorelai took or how many walks she went on or how many greens she ate, the baby wasn't doing what it was supposed to be doing. Lorelai flinched as Dr. Washington wiped the gel off her stomach.

"You can pull your shirt down now, Lorelai."

Lorelai did so and sat up. She clapped her hands together and let out a breath.

"So, what's the diagnosis, doc?" she asked.

Dr. Washington and pushed her dreadlocks over her shoulder. "I'm going to be honest with you, Lorelai. Things aren't progressing well." Dr. Washington turned the screen towards Lorelai and pointed to a fuzzy gray spot Lorelai could barely see.

"You see here…"

Lorelai twisted the fabric of her sweater in her hands as Dr. Washington listed all the ways her baby had turned out wrong. Lorelai looked up as she realized that Dr. Washington had stopped speaking.

"What should I do then?"

"Well, you have options. You can carry the baby as long as you can and we'll see what happens or you can terminate. Late term abortions can be covered by your insurance if there is a pressing medical need and in my opinion, you have one."

"So, what should I do? What do you think I should do?" Lorelai asked again.

"I think you and your partner should discuss your options." Dr. Washington replied.

"But, what do you think I should do?"

"Lorelai, I understand that you're scared, but I can't decide this for you. I can support you and the decision you choose to make, but I can't make it. Now, I'd like to see you again, next week to check on your progress. Stop by reception on your way out and make an appointment, okay?"

Lorelai nodded and slowly slid off the table. She walked passed the reception desk and into her car. As her car began to warm up, she let out a sigh. What was she doing? All this sneaking around for a baby that didn't even make it that far. She gripped her bright purple steering wheel cover until her knuckles turned white. Her life was finally falling into place. James was growing up. The Firefly was consistently making money. Things were finally okay. She didn't want that to change. Lorelai tugged the keys out of the ignition and walked back to the clinic.

"Hi," she said softly as she stopped in front of the receptionist, "I'd like to make an appointment."


	9. Chapter 9

Luke glanced over at the passenger seat at Lorelai who was scrolling and pouting at her phone.

"You okay?"

"Oh, you know," Lorelai replied, "Just imagining a life where I didn't use my son to shield me from my mother."

Lorelai turned and mournfully looked at the empty backseat behind her. "God, how did I raise a child that actually wanted to spend his Saturday mornings being active? Who even has a volleyball game on a Saturday morning? Why haven't those people been committed!?"

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to go to dinner without him. I said we could stay home tonight and drive James out for his game tomorrow. You can't complain about this."

"Oh yes, I can! I can complain about anything. It's my secret skill."

"It's not a secret if everyone knows about it."

"Hush, you." Lorelai said before sighing. "I can't abandon her. All she has is those I'm better than all those other rich white ladies meetings and yelling at her maids to get her through the day. We skip out on a Friday night dinner and than BAM! She's dead, the maids ransack the house and the Stars Hollow Gazette runs a story about the worst daughter in the entirety of New England."

Luke pulled into Emily's driveway. "There's no way they'd run a story about that."

"Really? When I moved here, the front page was about 'Teen Mom Lorelai Gilmore'."

"Oh yeah. I forgot how boring this place was." Luke replied. He scratched his head under his cap before tossing it in the backseat.

He turned the car off and unclipped his seatbelt. Luke looked at Lorelai, "Do you plan on getting out of the car, tonight or what?"

"You know, now that I think about it, we should just go home. In fact, let's rev this baby up and get a couple of burgers, c'mon, chop chop."

Luke rolled his eyes. "I did not put on a tie and drive 20 minutes for nothing. We're going to dinner and I'm getting a steak. Now move."

Lorelai gasped. "You can't make me."

"I'll drag you out of this car and throw in that house."

"That sounds hot. Let's go home so you can throw me around."

"Lorelai."

"Fine! Fine. Ugh," Lorelai said, stepping out of the car, "You're such a dad."

Instead of a brand new maid opening the door, Emily opened the door to them all by herself.

"Wow mom, you remembered how to open the front door."

"Well, every once in a while I can muster up the strength." Emily said with a raise of her eyebrow.

A maid materialized from the shadows of the foyer to take their coats. As they sat in the living room, Emily flashed a too sweet smile while another maid poured their drinks.

"So…" Lorelai threw out, feeling a shiver go down her spine at her mother's cheek to cheek grin.

"So! How is everything? Preparing for the holiday rush at the inn, I assume?"

"Sure…"

"Hopefully, you'll be bringing on a lot of extra help! Maybe it's time to give that lovely little frenchman a bit more responsibility with how busy things are going to be soon."

"I've done the holiday rush a million times, I can handle it just fine."

Emily rolled her eyes but that suspicious smile was still glued to her face. "And Luke, how are things at the diner? Any thoughts about expanding?"

"Uh, not at the moment, no." Luke replied, fiddling with his glass of water.

"Well, it's always good to have as many sources of income as possible these days."

"Mom, Luke is charging almost $3,000 a month to live in apartments smaller than your 3rd guest bathroom. We're fine." Lorelai said.

Emily took a small, neat sip of her wine before slamming the glass down on the table. "Oh, I can't wait any longer. I just have to give you my gift!"

Emily jumped up from the couch and walked into the recesses of the house. Luke and Lorelai looked at each other in confusion. Emily walked back into the living room with two maids trailing behind her, holding a massive pale green gift box, topped with a white bow.

The maids placed it on the table and Emily clasped her hands in front of her in excitement. "Go on, open it! No wait! Luke should open it. It'll be a nice surprise for him."

Luke glanced at Lorelai before ripping off the wrapping paper . He stood back and read the cardboard box.

"Silver cross bal-mo-ral handcrafted pram stroller. Color: navy." He frowned at Emily. "You got us a stroller? Look, I know that tantrum James had at his game was childish but he is 8. I swear." Luke said with a strained smile.

Lorelai's stomach lurched at the sight of the stroller. She couldn't know. Her mother couldn't know. It wasn't possible.

"Mom," Lorelai began.

"You two promised me that I would be the first person to know if you were trying for another baby.–"

"Mom," Lorelai said, trying to stop her mother's runaway mouth.

"–I was so embarrassed when Carol told me at last weeks DAR meeting that her daughter's colleague had been treating Lorelai in Hearthwood for over a month–"

"Mom," Lorelai said again, trying to avoid Luke's eyes as he stared at her.

"–but, I forgive you. I know it's a little early but look at how darling it is. When I saw it at the boutique in New York I–"

"Mom!" Lorelai said. "Take it back."

Emily's mouth dropped open. "I certainly will not take it back. My grandchild will not be pushed around in some thrift store stroller."

"Take it back." Lorelai said.

"I think you're being very ungrateful, Lorelai. Do you understand how ridiculous I would look returning a $3,000 stroller?"

"Take it back!" Lorelai screamed before storming out of the living room.

The slam of the front door shook the crystal chandelier above them. Emily frowned and grasped the broach on her jacket.

"It is just like her to take a special moment like this and make it all about her." She said.

Luke shook his head and sighed. "Goodnight Emily."

A stone faced maid was standing by the front door, holding his and Lorelai's jackets. Outside Lorelai stood next to the car, shivering. He handed her her coat and unlocked the car. He turned the ignition on and waited for the car to warm up. Lorelai sat in the passenger seat without a word. Luke pulled out of the driveway and stared straight ahead at the road.

"Luke." Lorelai said.

He didn't answer.

"Luke." Lorelai said again. "There isn't–there's no baby."

"Lorelai, please. I need to focus on the road." Luke said, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

The ride home was filled with a cold, oppressive silence. Lorelai had watched the side of Luke's face the entire time and with the exception of the veins in his neck bulging, he hadn't moved a muscle. When they pulled into the driveway, Luke left the car running, stepped out and slammed the door behind him. Lorelai scrambled after him, trying to catch up to his long strides in her stilettos.

"Luke," she said, following him up the stairs. "Listen to me for five seconds, let me explain!"

Luke shook his head and walked into the bedroom. "There's nothing to explain." he replied. He grabbed an empty duffle bag from the closet and tossed in on the bed, scaring Paul Anka awake. Wrenching the dresser open, he began stuffing handfuls of clothes in the bag. "You're pregnant and you weren't going to tell me. There, I saved you five seconds."

"That's not what happened."

"Are you pregnant?" Luke asked.

"Yes. But–"

"Then that is exactly what happened." Luke zipped his duffle bag. "I'm sleeping at the diner tonight."

Lorelai snatched the duffle bag away from him and tossed his clothes on the bed. "No you're not. You are staying right here and you are going to listen to me."

Luke rolled his eyes and starting re-filling the bag. "Look, I don't have time for this. The car's running and I don't want to kill the battery."

"No!" Lorelai said, grabbing the bag away. "You're going to listen to me!"

Luke clenched his jaw and crossed his arms. "Fine. Talk."

Lorelai clutched the duffle bag to her chest like a shield. "I didn't tell you because, there isn't going to be a baby."

Luke furrowed his brows. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Lorelai took a deep breath. "The reason I've been going to Heathrow is because there was something wrong. Really wrong. And you're so busy with everything and nobody knew. I–"

Luke said nothing so she kept going. "There was no point in telling you because I was going to take care of it."

"So you thought that going behind my back and getting an abortion made more sense than telling me you were pregnant?" Luke replied.

"Yes! It's my problem and I'm taking care of it. I don't understand why you're so mad."

"No, it's our problem, Lorelai. I'm your husband, do you remember? We did the whole thing with the white dress and the church? You don't get decide this kind of stuff by yourself!"

"When the problem is attached to my uterus sucking the life out of me, I decide it is my problem!"

Luke grabbed his duffle bag out of her arms. "Right now, our only problem is you. I'm sleeping at my apartment. I'll pick up James after his game and bring him home."


	10. Chapter 10

Lorelai was sitting on the couch, a purring Zsa-Zsa in her lap and Paul Anka at her feet, when James barreled through the front door. He dropped his duffle bag and coat on the floor and jumped on the couch. Zsa-Zsa hissed at him before bounding off Lorelai's lap and up the stairs. Lorelai kissed James' forehead, hoping he wouldn't take notice of her red-rimmed puffy eyes.

"How'd the game go?" she asked.

"It was awesome! We didn't win, but Avery spiked the ball so hard, that some kid's face exploded!"

"When did youth volleyball become a blood sport?" Lorelai asked. She craned her head over James' shoulder. "Where's your dad?"

"At the diner. Hey, can we have Chinese for lunch? I haven't had a fortune cookie in forever!"

Lorelai walked to the front door and stared out into the yard. She shivered in the breeze and ached for the familiar sight of a green pick up.

"Mom?" James called out from behind her. "Can we?"

"Sure kid," she replied, finally shutting the door. "I haven't overdosed on MSG in a while."

––––

Between itty-bitty bites of plain white rice and steamed broccoli, Lorelai tried to convince Michel to come in on his day off.

"No," Michel said, disgust dripping from his voice. "I will not sacrifice my one day off for you, boss or no."

"Michel please," Lorelai begged into the phone, "Just this once, I'll never ask you again."

"No."

"Michel!"

"Absolutely not. Nothing you can offer me could be better than driving up to New York and gorging myself on 2,000 calories worth of carbs, sugar, and, fat. Nothing. Now goodbye Lorelai, I have guests waiting to check in."

"Wait! I'll let you be the owner for the day."

The line went quiet. "I'm listening," Michel replied.

"Full privileges. Throwing people out, closing the desk, changing the menu. The whole shebang."

"I can finally say that I'm the owner when idiots want to speak to the owner? Fine. I'll come in tomorrow. But I want the weekend off."

"Deal. Michel, you're a lifesaver, you're such a babe."

"Keep that up and I'll report you to the HR department for sexual harassment."

"We have an HR department?"

Michel sighed. "Goodbye, Lorelai."

"Bye, sweet cheeks!"

Lorelai ended the call and stared at her phone screen. She had 12 missed calls. Without looking, Lorelai knew who they were from. If there was anything Emily Gilmore was great at, it was consistency. And for as long as Lorelai could remember, Emily Gilmore consistently destroyed anything that made her happy. But she, like a dumb beat up dog, always went for any morsel of positivity that her mother could give. For once, however, Emily couldn't take all the credit for the mess her life was in at the moment.

Lorelai jerked back as the salty, spicy smell of General Tso chicken assaulted her nose. "Houston, we have a problem," she groaned as she pushed James' fork out of her face.

James swallowed the chicken with a giggle. He tossed a pair of wrapped fortune cookies in her lap. Lorelai brought the cookies to her face and scrutinized them. She shook the one in her left hand.

"Hmm, I don't like the look of this one. That cracked edge signifies a dumb fortune about happiness or peace. Not into it." She looked at the cookie in her right hand. "But this ones already broken in half. That's bad fortune cookie luck. You can have this one."

"You're going to let your favorite son get a bad luck cookie?" James asked.

"Paul's my favorite son." Paul quietly woofed from under the coffee table in agreement.

"Your favorite human son?"

"Fine. Here." Lorelai tossed the James the unbroken fortune cookie to James, who cracked his right open.

"Your shoes will make you happy today. Lucky numbers are 6, 8, 35, 10, and, 87."

"That is so my fortune, trade me back!"

"Nuh-uh, no take-backsies. What's yours say?"

Lorelai cracked hers open and read aloud. "If you have something good in your life, don't let it go. Lucky numbers: 12, 43, 11, 13, and, 76."

"That was definitely my fortune, kiddo," Lorelai said, tossing the cookie into her mouth.

"Nah, my shoes have lights they make me super happy. Your cookie is talking about dad and me and Rory and Paul!" James said. "And maybe the cat. Maybe."

Lorelai folded up the fortune and stuffed it in her pocket. With the way Luke looked at her last night, Lorelai was pretty sure she didn't have a choice on whether he stayed.

Lorelai had to get out of the house. "Let's take Paul Anka for a walk."

"Oh! Can we play the lotto with my numbers? Please? I wanna win something big, like $50."

"Sure, but if Taylor says anything to me about you trying out for tween Jesus for his creepy play, I'm gone."

"Deal."

–––––

"Mom," James said as they walked into town, "I don't think Paul Anka likes his boots."

Paul ambled down the slush-covered sidewalk, shaking a booted paw with every step.

"It's either this, or I carry him and my old bones can't handle that kind of stress."

"Mom, your old bones can't even handle your bag," James replied, hitching Lorelai's purse up his shoulder.

"Exercise is good for you."

James waited outside Doose's store with Paul Anka while Lorelai went in and bought the lotto. Lorelai thought everything was going to plan when she caught sight of Taylor's neon blue parka standing outside.

Lorelai banged on the glass. "Hey! Step away from the child, Taylor! There is pepper spray in that purse and he is not afraid to use it!" she yelled.

Taylor huffed and rolled his eyes when Lorelai stepped out onto the sidewalk. "I'll ask you not to bang on my freshly cleaned windows Lorelai, thank you very much."

"Taylor, I'm warning you. One more step and I'll sic Paul Anka on you." Lorelai replied.

"But Lorelai, James would make the perfect Jesus for the play, if you could just convince him–"

Taylor's pleading was cut off as a wet snowball smacked him in the side of the face. He sputtered and turned around at the sight of a group of teenagers running away.

"Hey! You hooligans come back here! Dustin Belding! I see you! Your name is on your jacket!"

Taylor rage-walked after them.

"Bye, Mr. Doose!" James called after him.

"Someone should put a bell on that guy," Lorelai said with a shake of her head.

James turned his head and spotted Luke in the window of the diner. "Hey look, it's dad! Hi dad!" James yelled while waving his arms to get Luke's attention.

Luke looked up and gave a short wave and warm smile back. Lorelai met his eyes through the window and swallowed as he frowned and turned away. James tugged on her arm. "Can we go and get something to eat, mom?"

Lorelai cleared her throat. "We still have Chinese at home."

––––––––––

That afternoon, Lorelai dropped by Kim's Music Shoppe with James in tow. Steve and Kwan were out front, shovels off to the side, pelting each other with snowballs.

James took off, diving into the fray without hesitation. "Don't break any windows!" Lorelai yelled after him, "This house is worth more than my love for you!"

Henry Cho popped his head out of the front door at the sound of Lorelai's yelling. "I could hear you all the way from the basement, Ms. Gilmore."

"Howdy, Mr. Kim, can Lane come out and play?"

Henry grimaced, "Ugh, please stop calling me that. Lanes' in the kitchen."

"Number 2!" Steve yelled, "Are you coming outside or not?"

"Number 2? Like number 2, number 2?" Lorelai asked.

"No, like 'Dad number 2'. It was cute until they decided that 'dad number 2' was too long to say." Henry sighed and shoved a hat on his head. "Wish me luck."

Lorelai saluted him. "Godspeed."

"Hello?" Lane said from the depths of the house as Lorelai shut the door behind her, "Did I hear a Gilmore?"

Lorelai shook her head. Lane's shop was only slightly more organized then Mrs. Kim the former's antique gig. While you could see the floor and walls, 6-foot shelves and 5-foot women did not mix. Every time Lorelai came in, it was another episode of Horton Hears a Gilmore.

Lane was sitting at the kitchen table, balancing a near-empty bag of fun-size Snickers on her belly.

Lorelai pulled up a chair. "Healthy lunch?" she asked, grabbing a Snicker for herself.

"I'm pretty sure that judging pregnant women is bad for their health," Lane replied.

"Henry's a doctor, let's ask him."

"No! Please don't. Ever since I hit the 8-month mark, I've had to use Steve and Kwan as drug mules. They smuggle me chocolate and pizza when Henry's in the bathroom. Zack won't help either! He's giving me some crap about honesty and openness in co-parenting households."

"Gross."

"I know!"

Lane inhaled three more pieces of chocolate. "If I could actually put my snow boots on, I'd go live at the mall and eat nothing but Auntie Anne's and McDonald's. I am so sick of pickled vegetables, broth, and boiled chicken. If he tells me to stop looking at candy and thinking bad thoughts, I'm getting divorce number 2."

Lane rubbed her belly. "What are you doing over here anyway?"

"I have to run to New York to look at some furniture for the Inn tomorrow, can James grab a ride with Steve and Kwan?"

"Why the hell not? I could use a bit more child labor for the shop."

"Lane, you're cursing! What would your mother say?" Lorelai said with a grin.

"Something in Korean."

––––––––

Lorelai packed and repacked her hospital bag. She never thought she'd get any use out of the Depends Sookie got for her as a joke on her last birthday. Lorelai always said she'd rather be left in the woods to die than wear an adult diaper. Lorelai looked up at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Luke walked in. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You going somewhere?" he asked, looking at the bag.

"Yeah," Lorelai whispered.

Luke crossed his arms. "How you getting there?"

"Taxi? I thought about driving but the pamphlet said the anesthesia takes a few hours to wear off."

Luke walked towards her. "Can I take see?"

"Oh, sure." Lorelai dug the pamphlets out of the bedside table and held them out. Luke gingerly took them from her and sat down on the edge of the bed. Lorelai watched him squint and turned on the bedside lamp. Luke nodded in thanks. He plucked his glasses out of his flannel pocket and rested them on the edge of his nose. He took a deep breath and began reading.


	11. Chapter 11

Things at home were weird. Not weird like the kid who ate ants during recess, but still weird. Mom and dad reminded him of that movie April showed him about the robot who looked like a little boy but people didn't like him because he was a robot. He was so high tech that nobody could tell at first, but boy when he ate that spinach…

It was like someone had hidden under his parent's bed and kidnapped them. Now, there were a pair of robots here who looked just like them. Only robots would sit at the table during breakfast and not talk to each other. His dad would never stay at his job so late at night that he'd never see him, only a robot would do that. Only a robot would want to drive to grandma's house in different cars, not his mom. Only robots would act the way his mom and dad were acting now. They didn't laugh at each other or talk. If mom walked into a room and dad was there he would leave. If dad was there and mom came, he would leave. Dad didn't even try to get mom to come to his volleyball games anymore.

James knew there was no such thing as robots who hid under your bed so they could pretend to be your parents but, James couldn't figure out what was happening. Even having Rory back for Christmas didn't help. All Rory did was babysit him so mom and dad didn't have to stay at home. New Year's was the worst. Every year dad would stay home from work so they could go to Inn and watch the ball drop and drink fizzy apple juice. This year dad went to work. It was just him and mom. It wasn't the same.

One night before bed, James was wasting time on Youtube. A suggested video caught his eye. "Kids Meet Kids with Divorced Parents". James knew that word. He knew that auntie Lane and uncle Zach didn't live together anymore because they're divorced. Seth Perry missed a week of school because his parents got divorced. His English teacher told them they could go to the guidance counselor if they needed to talk. In the video, there were a lot of kids around his age who talked about their parents getting divorced, but their parents didn't act like his parents. Their parents yelled and screamed at each other and sometimes hit each other! His mom and dad would never do that. Never ever. The video was almost over when an older girl started talking about her parents. She talked about how her parents started to spend less time with each other. They didn't want to be in the same room with each other. Her mom started staying at work later and coming home after she and her brother were in bed. Her mom and dad wouldn't do stuff together if she and her brother weren't there. It was so familiar it made his stomach hurt.

James jumped when his bedroom light clicked on.

"Do I have to take your phone away again? I sent you to bed half an hour ago." Luke said, putting his hands on his hips.

"No! You always forget to charge it! I'll go to bed, I promise."

"Fine." Luke walked over and looked at James' phone. The hair on the back of James' neck stood up.

Luke squinted. "Are you watching those videos about kids eating things? You stayed up late for that?"

James relaxed. He forgot his dad couldn't see good without his glasses. "They put up a new episode about kids eating durian. Somebody puked!"

Luke rolled his eyes. "I don't get you, sometimes," he said with a smile. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to James' head. "Watch those kids puke tomorrow. I don't wanna hear anything about you being tired in the morning, okay? Goodnight."

"Night dad!" James replied.

James listened to the house creak as his dad walked away. If he had gone upstairs to be with mom, James would've heard the stairs creak and the sound of him in the hallway. Instead, James heard the soft sounds of the TV come through his door.

James checked the window for what felt like the 100th time to see if Steve and Kwan were home yet. Auntie Lane's car was still missing from the driveway so Mr. Cho hadn't brought them back from school yet. He squished a couple of french fries between his fingers as he waited. Dad's place didn't have WIFI and he didn't feel like using up all his data waiting. Just when it felt like he was going to die of boredom, the minivan rolled up and Steve and Kwan jumped out.

James grabbed his book bag and ran up to the counter. "Dad!" he yelled, "I'm gonna go hang out with Steve and Kwan."

Luke nodded, "Okay, look both ways before you cross the street. And call me when you're ready to go home."

"And put your hat on!" his dad yelled after him.

James dutifully looked both ways before crossing the street. He cut through the town square and met Mr. Cho at the door.

"Hey, James, go right on in, the boys are in the basement."

James shook the snow off his boots and walked downstairs where Steve and Kwan were on the floor surrounded by baby clothes.

"What're guys doing?" James asked, sitting down next to them.

"Grandma's here," Kwan said with a roll of his eyes.

"She's making us fold all this stuff for the baby," Steve said.

"She keeps feeding us tofu and pickled radish and slimy stuff! I haven't eaten an Oreo in forever!" Kwan said.

"She's starving us!" Steve said.

James rolled his eyes. Kwan and Steve were such babies. "My mom said that your mom was supposed to have the baby already."

"She was, but the baby's late? Henry said that if the baby doesn't come out by herself that they have to go to the hospital and take her out." Steve said.

"Is that how it works?" James asked.

"I dunno," Kwan said as he pulled a bag of M&M's out of his pocket. "I think so."

James happily accepted the candy offered to him. "What's your sister's name?"

"Amanda," Steve said. "I can't remember her other name."

"I think it's Mi-something," Kwan said.

"You guys need help?" James asked, picking up a shirt.

"Sure."

James folded a sock and half before speaking again. "Can I ask you guys something?"

Steve and Kwan shrugged.

"What's it like for your parents to break up forever?"

"What?" Steve replied.

"Divorced," James said when he finally had the strength, "What's it like for them to be divorced?"

Kwan shrugged. "It's fine."

"Yeah," Steve said, "It's not bad."

"It doesn't suck that your dad doesn't live with you anymore?" James asked.

"We see dad all the time. Plus, we don't even remember when he moved out. We were like, 5."

"I remember," said Steve.

"No, you don't, idiot," Kwan replied.

"Shut up, butthead! I do! It did kinda suck when dad moved out and it kinda sucked when mom and dad started dating and stuff cause I thought they would have new babies and forget about us."

"Man, you were a super crybaby back then. But then dad gave you that book, remember?" Steve said.

"Right! Mom read it to us every night for forever! It was called "Mom Home, Dad Home."

Kwan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is your friend's mom and dad getting a divorce or something?" he asked.

James swallowed. "Uh-huh. He's really sad about it."

Born and bred in Connecticut, Lorelai thought she could handle the cold. But the chill that swept between her and Luke after the appointment made the winter blast outside feel like the Sahara Desert. She thought things were okay now. Luke had been there for her. He held her hand and drove her home and held her during an embarrassing cry session in the bathroom. It was hard to pinpoint when things had turned upside down, but it was like living with a ghost. Often, Lorelai would lie awake at night, waiting for Luke to crawl in bed beside her and hold her close. She always woke up alone.

The last time Lorelai felt this cold, alone, and cast aside in her own home was when her parents found out about Rory. Lorelai found it a little unfair that her uterus had turned her life upside down again. She should get a prize or something. When Luke flinched away from her when they reached for salt at the same time during breakfast, Lorelai knew what she had to do.

Like clockwork, Luke ambled into their bedroom to get ready for the day. He turned his back to her and made sure to stay 3 feet away at all times like she was a contagious spore. Sitting up in bed, she stared down at her hands and took a deep breath.

"How are we going to tell James?" she asked.

Luke pulled his shirt on over his head and turned around. "Tell James about what?"

"About us."

Luke looked even more confused. "What about us?"

"Luke, c'mon. We can't keep living like this. You can't even look at me sometimes. I know I barely graduated high school, but I'm not an idiot."

Luke's shoulders slumped before he shook his head. "You want to get a divorce."

"What I want is for you not to walk around here like I'm keeping you, prisoner." Lorelai sighed, "If that means divorce, then yes."

Luke ran a hand over his face before sitting down on the bed. "Not this again," he said.

"What?"

"This! This thing you do when you pretend that you're married to yourself. You decided we need to get a divorce. What's next, you're gonna decide where we're gonna be buried or when my next prostate exam's gonna be? Are you kidding me?"

"How am I supposed to know what you want when you don't even talk to me?"

"What I want is to not be afraid that every conversation we're going to have, is a lie." Luke rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. "But I don't know how I'm gonna do that," he said, staring down at his knees.

Lorelai didn't either. She bit her lip. "Sookie and Jackson went to a marriage counselor for a while after Jason was born."

"Yeah?"

"It was so bad that Jackson had found a lawyer and everything."

Luke didn't say anything. Lorelai ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. "You don't have to if you don't want to, I–"

"Don't put words in my mouth again, Lorelai," Luke said, looking at her. "I'd never be able to forgive myself if our problems screwed up James. I'll try. For him."


	12. Chapter 12

Running into Mitchum put Logan in a mood. He grumbled around the penthouse, a dark cloud over his head and a frown on his face. When Rory emerged from the bathroom the only thing Mitchum left behind was a soggy cigar. Rory had tried to ask about what happened but Logan clammed up. Rory couldn't blame him. Knowing how to make you feel like garbage was one of Mitchum's special talents. After a few days of turmoil, Logan swept into the living room, a devious smile on his face. Rory glanced at him from behind her laptop.

"I see you're feeling better," she said.

"Yes, I am. You like Mexico?"

"Sure? It's a fine country?"

"So let's go."

"Go where?"

"Mexico, where else? Keep up, Ace."

"We're going to Mexico?" Rory parroted, " When?"

"Now!"

"Now? What about your job?"

"I pay good money for an HR department that hires people who can take care of themselves while I fuck off from time to time."

"Where would we even stay?"

"My summer house, where else?"

Rory shook her head, "I don't have a bikini."

Logan tossed a shopping bag in her lap. "Good thing I picked this up on the way home."

Rory peeked inside the bag and raised her eyebrows. She pulled out a couple of crocheted doilies held together with pieces of string.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A bikini."

"First, this is not a bikini. This is a lovely reason for me to get arrested for indecent exposure. Second, I can't run off to Mexico in the middle of the night. I have to let my mom know, plus I'm so close to getting a couple of interviews-"

Logan pressed a finger to her lips. "Last I checked, the only child your mom needs to check on is James."

Rory shook his finger from her lips, "What if I get an interview while we're away?"

"There is both WIFI and cell service in Mexico, believe it or not. If those assholes can't wait until we get back to meet you in person, that's their loss."

Another protest bubbled up in Rory's throat before she stopped herself. Things on the job search front had been a little slow. Plus, there were only so many lies that she could tell her mom about her new "job".

"You're lucky that I'm obsessed with keeping my passport up to date," she said, pulling Logan down on the couch next to her.

Logan pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her lips. "As badly as I would love to have you model that bikini for me, we have a plane to catch. Start packing."

Rory looked up from her phone and furrowed her brows at the green sign informing her that she had just entered New Jersey.

"Logan," she said, nudging him with her elbow, "I think your driver is going the wrong way."

"Oh?" he replied.

"You're very calm for someone whose car is going the direct opposite of JFK terminal," Rory said.

"Who said we were flying out of JFK?" Logan replied.

"LaGuardia isn't in New Jersey either."

"You're so cute," Logan said, reaching over to pinch her cheek, "Don't tell your grandparents waited in line at JFK for their private jet to take off."

"Private jet?"

"Of course. It's 2018. Who flies commercial?"

Like a child, Rory pressed her face to the window and watched as the town car pulled into the airport tarmac. Rory stepped out of the car in shocked silence. She turned to Logan as he walked up beside her. "I can't believe you have a private jet."

"No," Logan said, throwing an arm around her shoulder, "We have a private jet. Check out that wing."

Rory squinted up at the wing of the jet and laughed. "That's not what I think it is."

"Yes, it is. Meet the Rory Citation Longitude."

"You're completely out of your mind!"

"Only for you, baby," Logan said with an over top grin.

Rory was so captivated by the sight of her name on the wing of the private jet, she missed Logan climbing the stairs up to it.

"Hurry up. I'd like to get both Rorys to join the mile high club."

Rory rolled her eyes before taking one step towards the jet stairs. "This isn't stolen, is it?" she asked with a smile.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Emily Gilmore, is that you?"

"Shut up!" Rory yelled, running up the stairs after him.

New York City winters didn't feel too bad when they were spent in Mexico. The guilt Rory felt from being waited on hand and foot by the maids at Logan's villa took about 2 weeks to evaporate. Leaving New York was just what Rory needed. The sound and smell of the ocean energized her every morning. Whenever Logan decided that she was allowed out of bed, Rory jogged, did yoga and applied for more jobs than ever. Logan would take her out into the city, snatching up anything that caught her eye. Rory decided that she wouldn't mind coming back to the villa every year to get away from it all and recharge, she would need when she went back to work.

She had spent the morning sitting on the villa's porch and updating her resume. Through the open bay windows behind her, Rory could hear the maids bustling about and cleaning inside. Rory never let it be known to them that she was fluent in Spanish, she didn't see the point. Plus, she could hear the best gossip if she pretended she didn't understand. Rory heard the deep raspy voice of one of the usual maids, Maria, but couldn't recognize the voice of her companion.

"Hey," the new voice said, "Who's she? Isn't Mr. Huntzberger's wife blonde?"

"What do you expect? He's a man." Maria replied.

"Shameless, huh? Sitting there in his wife's clothes."

Maria laughed. "Shame? What do you need shame for when you're fucking a man who could buy and sell you? At least she's prettier than the last one, eh? Her ass matches her thighs!"

The two of them erupted into laughter. Rory touched her cheek and felt it burning hot. She was sure that if she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her face would be tomato red. She bit her lips and gathered up all her things. She walked through the foyer and felt the maids watch her as she grabbed a bottle of tequila and went upstairs. Rory tore off Odette's clothes and pulled on the clothes she wore on the jet. She opened the window and tossed the rightful Mrs. Huntzberger's clothes into the backyard.

Rory spent the rest of the morning drinking in angry silence until she passed out. When she woke up, the sun had set and she felt sticky and sour. Whatever fiery anger she had this morning had dissolved into bitterness. She went downstairs to the living room and found Logan on the couch, the sounds of a soccer match blaring.

"Hey you," he said patting the couch cushion next to him, "Feel like translating? I've been using context clues but a clown ran out into the field and I'm lost."

Rory sat down next to him and crossed her arms without saying a word. Logan let her sit there for a few moments before muting the TV.

"You okay?"

"We should go," Rory asked.

"Go where?"

"Back to New York. I have stuff to do." Even to Rory's ears, her excuse sounded bogus.

"Stuff?" Logan said with a laugh, "What stuff?"

"Stuff Logan! Go interviews, try to get some freelance assignments, work! Not everyone's daddy gave them a multi-million a year job fresh from college, you know. Can we just go?"

Logan shrugged and threw up his hands. "Fine. Pack your shit and be ready in 10 minutes," he said.

Rory watched him walk outside to the porch and light up a cigarette. He'd been trying to quit and Rory knew he only smoked when he was stressed. It made Rory feel a little better to know he was as unhappy as she was at the moment.

The plane ride home was spent in silence. The weather outside when they stepped out onto the tarmac was warmer than the space between them. The elevator ride up to her apartment was spent looking anywhere but each other. Rory opened her apartment door and stopped Logan from following her in.

Logan sighed. "Are you kidding me?"

"I told you I have stuff to do," Rory replied as she crossed her arms.

"Since when is throwing a tantrum 'stuff'?"

"I'm not throwing–!" Rory began to shout into the emptiness of the hallway. She bit her lip and lowered her voice. "I'm not throwing a tantrum."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do whatever you want." Logan tossed his bag over his shoulder and walked to the elevator at the end of the hall.

"When you decide you want to act like an adult, feel free to drop by," he said, letting the elevator doors slid shut.

Rory found herself in a bit of a moral dilemma. Logan graciously gave her one of his many credit cards once hearing that Rory had less than $10 in her bank account. With the two of them being in the middle of a...fight, she wondered if it were right to keep using it. Wanting to force herself into productivity, Rory packed up her laptop and set out. Google Maps told her there was a French patisserie/cafe five blocks from the apartment. Two blocks in, the sky darkened. Rory had barely looked up before the rain started pouring. One drop of water and her laptop was done for. The nearest open shop turned out to be a Starbucks.

Despite being a coffee fanatic, Rory wasn't such a huge fan of Starbucks. Sometimes all she wanted was a cup of plain, tasty coffee, but all they sold were coffee flavored sugar and milk monstrosities. Rory grabbed a handful of napkins and squeezed the water out of her hair. The wind splattered the rain against the glass windows and didn't look to be stopping anytime soon. The Starbucks was packed with other 30-somethings hunched over their laptops. She tried to find an open spot with an outlet but saw nothing. The smell of prepackaged pastries made her stomach grumble. Maybe a table would open up after she got a muffin. Or two.

When it was her turn to pay Rory handed the cashier Logan's card.

"Can I see some ID?" the barista asked.

Rory's brain short-circuited. When she handed the card over she assumed that it would be the usual swipe and give back. Not this.

"It's not mine, it's my husband's," Rory replied.

The barista frowned and handed the card back. "I'm sorry, we've had a lot of credit card fraud lately so we don't take credit cards without ID anymore."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, she is." Another barista with a 'manager' pin said as she came up to the counter. "Now how will you be paying?"

That was a great question Rory did not have an answer to.

"I'll pay," a voice said from behind her.

Without looking back, Rory shook her head and threw up her hands. "No, it's fine. Put it back or something."

"No way," the voice said coming up and sliding a $20 bill on the counter. "I'll pay. What are friends for?"

Friends? Rory looked at the stranger and laughed. She didn't know how she didn't recognize that voice.

It was Jess!


	13. Chapter 13

In return for his chivalrous display at the counter, Jess got one hell of a hug. He pressed a wad of napkins to Rory's head and lead her to an open table.

"You look like a wet dog," he said.

Rory rolled her eyes but tried to wring her hair into the napkin. "Look who's talking," she replied swatting at his hair. "When's the last time you got a haircut?"

"When'd you?" he shot back with a crooked smile. "What're you doing back in the Big Apple, anyway? Word on the street is you moved back to Ye Olde Star's Hollow."

"A minor setback," Rory said, nibbling her muffin, "I needed to go back home and think about some stuff. I'm back and Paris is letting me stay with her until I find a new job."

"A new job? What happened to the Wall Street Journal?"

"I quit. I didn't feel like there was anywhere but down for me there."

Jess raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "The hell are you staying with Paris for when you got a husband? Thanks for the wedding invite, by the way." he said, throwing air quotes around 'husband'.

"Keep up the attitude and you won't be invited to the actual wedding, jerk."

"Who's the guy? Some writer nerd? God forbid, an editor?"

If Rory rolled her eyes any more they would've popped out. "It's Logan. Remember him?"

"Mister Richie-rich? He did look like a pain in the ass to live with, but anything has to be better than Paris. You'd have a better time at Rikers."

"Hey!" Rory said, giving his arm a slap, "Paris is okay. She's married now, has a couple of kids-"

"She multiplied?" Jess asked, hand on his chest.

"Stop it!" Rory said, laughing. "She's calmed down. She has a Xanax prescription."

"Well God bless Big Pharma."

"What about you?" Rory said, giving his shoulder a nudge, "Your 7th graders still awful?"

"They're garbage. My 3rd-period class added me in a group chat talking shit about my first book."

"No way."

"Yep, its called 'Roasting Mr. Mariano'. Nothing makes you feel like less of a man than a 12-year-old telling me that Migos lyrics make more sense than my book."

"Who?"

"Don't Google them. Save yourself."

"Jesus. Have kids gotten meaner?"

"Worse, they got smartphones. Enough about my job and my shitty kids. How's the job search going?"

"It's going. Down the street, around the corner and then straight to hell. Thanks for asking." Rory sighed, "Maybe I've peaked. How sad is that? I did my best writing in my 20's. Nothing good is supposed to happen in your 20s."

"You sound desperate."

"I am."

Jess rubbed his chin before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "One of my old editors works at Buzzfeed, he's always looking for some new talent."

Rory tried to keep her face neutral. Buzzfeed? Buzzfeed? She was a Yale graduate who followed Barack Obama's rise to the White House who had five years of professional journalism at one of the top newspapers in the world. And Jess thought working at Buzzfeed was a good suggestion? Her grandparents didn't spend $130,000 at Yale so she could make quizzes and tweet all day.

"Do you want me to give him the heads up about you?" Jess asked.

Rory didn't want to rude when Jess was trying to help. She nodded. "Sure, I'll text you the link to my portfolio."

Jess snorted. "Don't worry about it. Your mom made your portfolio her email signature. I can find it."

"Sure and when we go back to Stars Hollow we can pass around the laminated copies of your books Luke keeps at the counter," Rory replied with a smile.

Jess rolled his eyes. "God, those guys are dorks."

––––––

In the middle of rewriting her list of possible articles to think about starting to write, Rory's cell phone rang. Thinking it was her mother, she picked up without looking.

"Hello?"

"Rory Gilmore. It has been months since my husband put you up in that apartment and you don't even have the decency to show your face at my home. Do you hate me?"

Rory blinked and tried to catch up to the conversation. "Paris? Is that you?"

"Who else could it possibly be Rory? The Dalai Lama? Why haven't you been coming to dinner at my house? My house is amazing. I have a yard."

"And you also have a job. I've been busy looking for one of those, Paris."

"Ah, so you're poor. Probably thousands in credit card debt, barely able to feed yourself. Lucky for you, you have me. It's pizza night. Don't wear anything you aren't willing to burn. See you at 7, I'll text you the address."

Rory stared down at her phone. She was going to dinner.

The taxi to Paris' Queens home cost a ridiculous amount of money. At least Rory had a late start to credit card debt to put on her resume. The last time Rory visited Paris' home, she had been terrified of touching anything. Paris and Doyle's two-bedroom apartment in Williamsburg had been white. Really white. White hardwood, white granite, white couches. It was more mental institution than modern European living. The actual dinner had been delicious when Rory could get her food passed the lump of terror in her throat. Three months pregnant and weaning off her anxiety meds, Paris had been liable to snap at any moment. Rory considered all the nervous clenching she had done during the two-hour visit one hell of a workout. Five years out, Rory wondered how Paris' efficient, spartan way of living translated into a pair of kids.

When the car pulled up in front of the house, Rory thought it was a mistake. The red brick townhouse looked so...normal. There was no giant glass windows or white anything. There were even a couple of disintegrating snowmen on the lawn. Rory had been expecting something designer, something chic. Not the back page feature in Better Homes and Gardens. Rory rang the doorbell and smiled at Paris when she opened the door. She opened her arms for a hug.

"Stop." Paris barked. "Are you up to date on your shots? Flu? HPV? TDap?"

"Uh-yes?"

"I don't believe you." Paris stood aside and ushered Rory inside. "Shoes off put them in the tray over there."

Rory placed her shoes in the rubber tray next to a pair of Paw Patrol and Spiderman sneakers. Paris took her coat into the hall closet while Rory looked around. She was surprised. It looked like a house with kids. There were no white couches or gold, pointy accents hanging from the wall. Paris' degrees and family photos covered the pale yellow walls. There were toy buckets and soft couches and a cat in the living room!

"I can't believe you have a cat," Rory said, walking over to peer at the chubby tabby sleeping on the couch. "Didn't you call them 'fat useless freeloaders that caused millions of miscarriages a year'?"

"I stand by that statement." Paris replied, "But the kids found this fat bastard in the yard last month and now I'm stuck with him. Show me your hands."

"What?"

Paris jerked Rory's hands towards her and inspected them. "Hmm. You're fine. Next time, please trim your nails shorter. If my kids get the flu again, I will kill myself."

"Uh…"

The tabby cat's ear flicked back at forth at the sound of the front door opening. It slowly got up and jumped off the couch.

"Guys, guys, c'mon don't run through daddy's legs when he's holding pizza. Take off your shoes, put them in the tray." Rory and Paris followed the sound of Doyle's voice to the foyer where two short, blonde kids were sitting on the floor and petting the cat.

Doyle stepped over them and handed Paris the pizza box. "Welcome to the house of horrors, Gilmore."

"Mommy, can Fatty have pizza too?" Dexter asked.

Paris shook her head, "Remember I told you that Fatty can't have people food? Now leave Fatty alone and say hi to my friend."

Dexter and Cassandra jumped off the floor and in between the removal coats and hats and sound of Fatty meowing, they introduced themselves.

"Hello, I'm Rory," she replied, head spinning.

"Rory we have to wash our hands before we eat to get rid of germs. Did you wash your hands?" Cassandra asked, tugging her shirt and dragging her down the hall.

"Germs make you sick and can kill you!" Dexter said, following behind.

The twins jostled her from the kitchen sink to the dining room table where Doyle was laying out paper plates and napkins.

"Don't give me that look, Gilmore. You like washing pizza dishes on a Saturday night?"

Dexter and Cassandra scrambled into their seats.

"Sit next to me, Rory!" Dexter said.

"No, sit next to me!" Cassandra yelled.

Doyle picked up Dexter's chair and moved it to the other side of the table, leaving an empty chair between the two of them.

"Indoor voices, please."

Doyle was doling out pizza when Paris walked into the dining room with two plates of salad topped with a steaming hunk of salmon. She dropped one plate in front of Doyle and kept one for herself.

"I thought it was pizza night," said Rory.

"Not for us," said Paris, digging into her salad. "Chances of conceptions increase 33% when both parents are eating a diet free from processed foods and dairy."

"Another baby? Holy crap."

Cassandra and Dexter started 'oohing' at either side of her. "You said a bad word!" Dexter said.

"You gotta put money in the swear jar!" Cassandra said.

"Guys, Rory is a guest so she doesn't have to put money in the jar," Doyle said. "Gilmore, we just got them to stop calling kids at school the 'BS' word. Don't ruin this for us."

"Sorry, sorry."

"But yes," Paris said, "My eggs and Doyle's sperm are in their prime. This is the perfect time to have another child. My ovaries have never been so supple."

Rory glanced at Cassandra and Dexter sitting next to her. They were silently eating their pizza not affected at all by the talk of supple ovaries and healthy sperm.

"Don't worry about them," Paris said, "I don't believe in the stupidity of shielding children from the facts about the human body. They know how babies are made."

"Rory, I have ovaries too!" Cassandra said.

"I don't," Dexter said with a pout. "But I have a penis! Look!"

"Dexter, no!" Doyle and Paris shouted.

–––––––

Rory stretched out on the floor and let Fatty paw at her stomach. Paris looked down at her from the couch.

"How am I this tired? All I did was watch you and Doyle bathe them," she said.

"Welcome to parenthood."

"And you're making another one? Insane."

"Not yet. I've been stuffing myself with nothing but twigs and berries but it's not happening. Doyle and I have been trying for 2 years." Paris said and stared at the ceiling. "I'm starting to think it's not going to happen."

"That's not true. You're a fertility doctor, you know stuff like that takes time."

"That's bullshit, Rory. We tell people that at first so they don't jump off a bridge because their body isn't doing one of the most fulfilling things in the world. I think its too late for me."

"Too late for what?" Rory asked as she sat up. "You already have two great kids."

"Rory, you don't understand. My kids aren't just great, they're amazing. They have more friends at five years old than I did at twenty-five. They're so well-adjusted and happy that I'm going to spend money I budgeted for their middle school re-doing my kitchen or something. Doyle's sperm is magic. I can't make another kid like that by myself. I don't want to fail at this."

"Paris, come on. Cassandra and Dexter aren't happy and healthy because of Doyle's sperm. It's you. You and Doyle. You guys are great parents."

"You sound like my therapist."

"You are! Paris you could adopt a feral child and turn their life around."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Of course." Paris murmured as she crossed her arms. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"Adopt a child. I am going to adopt a child and test the hypothesis on whether nature or nurture created my great kids. This was such a great idea."

"Paris," Rory said getting up off the floor, "That's not what I was saying! You can't adopt a kid as an experiment, you're not a mad scientist."

"Rory, don't try to be humble. When I get my new kid, it's middle name will be Lorelai." Paris replied slapping her on the back.

Doyle walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. "If I have to listen to baby shark one more time, I will walk into traffic. Not kidding." he glanced at the tow of them. "What'd I miss?"

"Doyle, we're adopting a child to prove the superiority of our parenting skills. You in?"

"If it means I can eat like a human being again, then I'm in."

"You guys, I feel like we got off track somewhere–"

"I can't sleep! Hold me!" Cassandra said as she ran into the living room.

"Hold me too!" Dexter said.

Paris and Doyle opened their arms and grabbed a kid Rory couldn't explain the way her chest tightened when she saw how Paris stared down at Dexter. Rory was sure she'd never seen Paris so relaxed. The woman managed to have a face of pure misery even in her sleep.

"It going to be a three-song type of night," Doyle said, petting Cassandra's hair. "Let me walk you to the door, Gilmore."

"No, it's okay," Rory said, "I know where the door is."

"Bye Rory!" Dexter said with a wave.

"Bye! I like your big head, Rory!" Cassandra said.

Rory laughed and waved back. Even though she hadn't called for a Lyft she still put on her coat and walked outside She stopped under a streetlamp the next block over to wait for one. Paris had changed since graduation. She had been a neurotic workaholic, violently searching for the affection and acclaim she had never received from her parents. Now, she was a mother and a wife and a successful, happy businesswoman. Rory wanted to turn around and beg Paris to tell her how. How did she manage to do any of that? How did Lane? Or Jess or, anyone?

Most all, she wanted to know when the hell it was going to happen to her.


	14. Chapter 14

Logan wasn't in the best mood. The idea of Mitchum being in the same city as him put him in a permanent state of agitation, his maid had rearranged his entire kitchen and now he was drinking aged scotch straight from the bottle like a teenage idiot. He lit a cigarette and walked onto the balcony. Logan flicked the ash onto the city below and sighed. He hadn't spoken to Rory in days. The look of hurt on her face when the elevators slid shut was burned into the back of his eyelids, but he was too old to play games with her. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it over the balcony. If Logan kept thinking about what Rory was doing and how Rory was feeling he would be following his cigarette over the balcony. Logan grabbed the overnight bag he hadn't bothered to unpack and called for a car.

It was time to go home.

A giant caricature of Mitchum taped to the foyer wall greeted Logan as he opened the door to his loft. Mitchum's massive head was peering into a baby crib where a stack of cash was swaddled and laying on a pillow.

"Do you like it? I'm thinking about hanging it above our bed."

Odette walked out of the kitchen, an ornery chihuahua nestled in her arms and a wide grin on her round face.

Odette Huntzberger, née Collins was the daughter Stephen Collins, BBC's director of News and Current affairs and Margaret Collins, née Buxton, daughter of the Baron Noel-Buxton. On paper, Odette was nothing if not the perfect English rose. Mitchum had suggested that he was willing to give Logan a place at his newest media acquisition on his return to America if he took an interest in her. Logan didn't find it a hardship, he had been getting sick of London anyway.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Odette Collin, granddaughter of Baron William Buxton III, was a complete asshole. At their first meeting, arranged by Stephen himself, she was an hour late, wearing stained overalls and sporting a newly shaved head. She looked nothing like the stoic young blond in the picture Mitchum had emailed him the week before. Odette had spent the evening trying to turn him off. She put her dirty feet on the dinner table, cursed, and, called him a 'pasty cunt' loud enough to scandalize the patrons around them. It was the most fun he'd ever had.

Despite her obvious disgust with him, when he asked her out again, she accepted. After two months of being subjected to Odette's sour face, Logan finally asked why she kept accepting his invitations. Odette, in turn, asked why he continued to ask out a woman who obviously thought he was an absolute knob. Logan told the truth, his father promised him a good position back home if everything worked out. Odette told her truth. She was a 29-year-old fine arts major whose parents were through were her being "childish". Her paintings weren't selling and her parents had threatened to cut her off unless she fell in line and did what all upper-class English women did. Marry and marry well. Logan was the only man that her father had hand-picked that hadn't run scared.

Logan had informed her that a buzzcut and a few naughty words weren't going to scare off an all American boy like him. Odette had warmed up to him after that. Four months in, they fell into a comfortable FWB, relationship much to their parent's delight. Seven months in, Odette asked him if his family had any heirloom engagement rings because her father didn't find "commercial" rings up to snuff. A year and a month after their first date, Odette Collins became Odette Huntzberger. Odette repaid her mother's wedding gift of a vintage christening gown by getting an IUD and moving to New York.

Logan couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in their two-year marriage when it happened, but it happened. Having been on the other end of several lovestruck women, he couldn't ignore the fact that Odette had fallen in love with him. Now Logan was an asshole but he wasn't cruel. When he saw the hurt in her eyes when he mentioned sleeping with someone else, he stopped mentioning it. When he heard her say "I love you," for the first time, Logan said it back. Logan was sure that eventually, he'd love her. He cared for her and wanted her to be comfortable and happy. She was the best outcome of the situation his father had dropped him in.

Logan laughed and ripped the poster off the wall to take a closer look at it. "Yeah, nothing gets me going like dear ol' daddy watching over me."

Odette rolled her eyes and let the chihuahua trot off into the apartment. "Spoilsport. You know for a man who just spent three weeks in California you're paler than all of Ireland."

Odette wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his neck. Logan buried his nose in her hair and breathed in the smell of turpentine, coffee, and the cigarettes she swore she quit. He pressed a kiss to her lips.

"It's cute that you think they let me out of that conference room to enjoy the weather."

"While you were working on your tan, I was stuck here with your mum," Odette replied.

"She was here?" Logan asked hanging up his coat and kicking off his shoes.

"You bet. And look at all the nice things she brought me, every day for the last week," Odette said. She walked into the living room and handed him a stack of designer baby clothes magazines.

"Jesus Christ," Logan muttered, flipping through the pages filled with rolly-polly babies.

"There are $600 cloth nappies in one of those things. Does she think that because I have a few tattoos I'd want to spend my time playing with baby shit?"

"I'm more shocked that my mother was sober enough to remember where we lived."

Logan tossed the magazines on the couch and dragged his overnight bag into the living room. He dug out the souvenirs he picked up in Mexico and held out the bag to her.

A happy blush spread across Odette's cheek as she snatched the bag out of his hands. "I thought you said they never let you out of the conference room."

"They didn't," he said with a smile, "But my assistant was free to go through your Instagram and then pick up something nice on the pain of losing his job."

Odette pulled out a bag of mixed metal and loose turquoise and amber stones. "He noticed that you've been into making your own jewelry lately."

"These are beautiful, are they real?" Odette asked.

"Just as real as the charge on my card." Logan checked his watch. "You eat yet? I love Mexican food but I don't think my stomach can take any more stress."

"I could definitely go for some sushi. Let me put these away and change out of my joggers and we can go."

Odette pinched his cheek before hopping off the couch. The dog followed behind her, stopping to bark at Logan on the way. Logan couldn't understand why the people at the pound had named that little bastard Sweetheart. He picked up one of the baby magazines and sighed. He could tell that Odette was warming up to the idea of starting a family. Logan had been preparing for it, he had been slowing down. Not as many women, not as many drinks, and not as many nights out. He didn't want his kid, whatever it turned out to be, to grow up like him. He wanted to be the dad he always wanted.

Logan had been happy enough. He thought he had come to terms with raising kids and growing old with Odette but being with Rory made him realize he hadn't. Odette was a choice he didn't make in a long list of choices he didn't make. If he had the choice, he wouldn't have chosen her. He would've chosen Rory.

All his life, every choice that shaped his future was taken from him. He deserved to choose Rory, no matter how frustrating she was being. If it was the end, then so be it, but it was going to be on his terms. Not Mitchum's.

Rory wondered how it was possible to live in the same building as someone and never see them. Either Logan had died or was doing a fantastic job at avoiding her. Trying to distract herself by looking for a job wasn't working because she couldn't find anything. Her days were filled with Netflix, pizza, and walking around.

After a walk to cheer her up from another rejection, Rory was standing in the elevator, debating on whether or not she wanted to ride up to the penthouse and see if Logan would open his door. The elevator dinged and the doors began to slide shut before a hand stuck out and held them open. Logan walked inside and stood next to her.

"Fancy seeing you here," Logan said with a smile. He pushed the penthouse button.

Rory stared at him. He was smiling casually like he hadn't frozen her out for a week and a half.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" she asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow, "Do you want me to say something else?"

"Maybe you can explain why you've been ghosting me for a week."

"Ghosting, look at you using big kid words."

"Logan."

"What do you want me to say?" Logan said with a shrug, "I didn't have to sit around and wait for you."

"That's not what I'm asking you to do, Logan. I needed to talk to you."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the arrival to the top floor. Rory jabbed the 'door close' button.

"We can talk later," Logan said, pressing the 'door open' button.

"No, you're here now so we're going to talk now," Rory said closing the door again.

"Fine," Logan said as he crossed his arms. "Talk."

"I'm sorry for," Rory sighed, "Throwing a tantrum in Mexico and acting like an idiot. The maids said something–"

"Oh my god," Logan muttered.

"Let me finish, please. She was talking about your wife and all the other women you brought to the villa and Logan I was wearing her clothes."

"Whose clothes?"

"Odette's clothes, you gave me her clothes to wear and I felt so gross and crappy for sleeping with a married man. I freaked out."

Logan pressed the 'door open' button and walked Rory to the door of his penthouse. "This married man thing, again? Seriously?"

"It's not just that, you gave me your wife's clothes, Logan."

Logan pulled Rory inside and shut the door behind him. "What do we want me to do, Rory? Do you want me to call Odette and let her tell you that she doesn't care that you're sleeping with me?"

"God, no!" Rory rubbed her hands down her face and sat down on the couch. "I just don't want to a homewrecker twice before I'm 35."

Logan sat down next to her "There's no home to wreck, Rory."

"Why didn't you tell me that I was wearing Od-, her clothes?" Rory asked.

"Because I knew you would freak out. Why didn't you tell me about what the maids said?"

"Because I knew you would freak out and fire them or something!"

Logan laughed softly. "We're just a couple of freaks, then."

"I'm sorry."

"How about this, we're both sorry. We're both idiots who probably should be in therapy. But we can't keep not telling each other stuff because we're afraid to freak each other out. We're not kids anymore. We pay taxes."

"Yeah, so many taxes," Rory replied with a watery smile.

Logan curled his fingers around Rory's. "Are we good?" he asked.

"We're good," Rory said, squeezing his hand.

Rory took a deep breath, "Wow, we should get an award for being the most well-adjusted couple in New York. We should celebrate with pizza. Your treat?"

Logan frowned. "I wish I could, Ace but I have to pack. It's holiday season, Odette and I have to make the rounds. We're flying to London in the morning."

"Oh."

Logan threw an arm around her shoulder, "Don't look so sad. It's only for 2 weeks. Then, I fly back to Connecticut to celebrate Hanukkah and dance on my grandfather's grave."

Logan laughed at the horrified look on Rory's face, "Oh come on, you didn't even like him!"

Rory helped Logan pack and waited in the lobby with him for his taxi. When the car pulled up to the curb, Rory briefly thought about dragging Logan back to his apartment and keeping him hostage. She gave him a kiss goodbye and stood on the sidewalk until the taillights disappeared. The ride back up to her apartment was lonelier than she thought it would be. Rory's phone beeped upon the arrival of a new email.

From: sashaeliot@octomedia.com

Hi Lorelai,

Happy holidays from everyone at Octomedia. We have an opening for a writer at our New York offices, starting in the new year. Are you free to chat?

Thanks!

Sasha

Rory reread the email waiting for the burst of relief and tingle of excitement to run up and down her spine. She guessed she spent all of her happiness on a man who was spending Christmas with his wife. Rory closed her apartment door behind and headed to the kitchen to heat up some leftover pizza. She'd reply tomorrow.


End file.
